


It All Begins with a Goodbye

by I_ran_out_of_books



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Dragon Lord Merlin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, Last Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Revealed, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Pre-Slash, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 102,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_ran_out_of_books/pseuds/I_ran_out_of_books
Summary: Merlin is in love with Arthur, but the prince doesn't seem to reciprocate the feeling. Merlin is content to be Arthur's friend and nothing more but circumstance forces the two sides of the same coin apart. Now they must find their way back to each other or lose it all.





	1. Content

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I'm writing a new fic and I've got a feeling it's going to be a lengthy one. I haven't settled on how many chapters it'll be but I'm thinking around 8, we'll so how it goes! I'll try and keep the updates regular.
> 
> As always come talk to me in the comments, I love hearing what you have to say! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin deals with his heart ache and aims to learn to be content with his circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is canon-era but the timeline varies from the show. I'll try and make it as obvious as possible. So far I'm thinking Morgana's rebellion happened a little sooner, and Arthur and Gwen started courting much later, almost completely after Morgana was gone. Other than that most of the same things that happened in the show have happened in this universe too. 
> 
> Pardon any discrepancies, it's been like a year since I've seen the series and the time-line is a little fuzzy in my mind. Other than that this story shouldn't require any back-ground knowledge and I'll try to explain everything as thoroughly as possible. 
> 
> Come talk to me in the comments :)

Merlin walked toward Arthur's chambers after a long day of work. There was a small part of him that urged him to walk faster so that he could spend more time with the prince but he ignored it and nodded at the servants that passed him in a show of solidarity. Although he had to look after the prat, Merlin could admit that spending the evening in Arthur's chambers was one of his favorite parts of the day. After a long day of running around the castle doing a million things at once, and those were the days without a threat to both of their lives, going into Arthur's rooms and lighting a fire was like heaven. Merlin rounded the corner that led to Arthur's chambers and greeted the guards with a happy little wave. The two men stood as stoic and statuesque as ever but a glimmer of amusement shone in their eyes. 

"Evening, clotpole!" called Merlin merrily as he closed the heavy oak door. 

" _Mer_ lin," greeted Arthur with a warning tone. 

"I've had the longest day today," began Merlin,"earlier while I was cleaning out the stables Hendrid tripped me and I f-"

"I'm sure this tale only gets more interesting from there but I would rather sit through one of Gaius's lectures on herbs than hear how that ends." 

"Your loss." Merlin walked over to the fire place and started setting logs down in the shape that always guaranteed him a quick fire. 

"Anyway I'm much more interested in why you're late and I've had to sit in my cold chambers waiting for my brainless servant." 

"Well you've forbidden me from telling you what happened after Hendrid tripped me so you'll never know now," Merlin said with a teasing tone as he turned to look at Arthur. 

The prince scowled, " _Mer_ lin this is not a joke, I've been here at least half an hour in the cold." 

"Oh no! We wouldn't want you to catch a case of the royal sniffles, now would we?" said Merlin in a grave tone. He had to turn and pretend to fiddle with the flint to keep from laughing at Arthur's look of total outrage. A few flicks of the flint and stone had sparks flying and growing into flames in no time. Arthur's spluttering culminated in a growled _Shut up_ which always meant Merlin had won the round of verbal sparring, at least that's how Merlin counted it anyway. His knees cracked as he stood and he stretched like a lazy cat in front of the fire. 

Arthur watched as Merlin raised his arms toward heaven, his long fingers interlocking, and pulled lightly from side to side. His tunic rode up and a sliver of ivory skin revealed itself. He found himself mesmerized at the way the muscles along Merlin's lower stomach tensed and released with his movements. He wanted to be angry that Merlin could waltz into his chambers late, insult him, and then be generally lazy, but he couldn't find any real irritation within himself as he looked. Snapping his eyes back up to Merlin's face he was met with one of his usual bright smiles and a warmth he felt he'd been missing all day spread throughout him. 

The happiness reminded him of what he wanted to speak to Merlin about. There had been someone else that warmed him in a similar way for a while now, and Merlin himself had been the person to lead him to the freeing conclusion. He pretended to be busy by shuffling with his papers at his desk while Merlin walked around his room and prepared everything for the night. He picked up discarded items of clothing from the ground with an exasperation that pleased Arthur, and muttered about messy prats. He had to force the laughter down as he watched his servant work. Merlin really was something else. If Arthur was honest with himself he could admit that Merlin was far more than just a servant, he was Arthur's most valued friend. He made him happy when nothing else seemed to cheer him, and right now as he watched him cleaning he found that he wanted to share everything about himself with him. 

"Merlin, stop for a minute, I want to tell you something." At the declaration his servant seemed to startle but he dropped what he was doing and came over to Arthur's desk immediately. 

"Everything alright, sire?" The use of the title and the concern in Merlin's voice had Arthur rejoicing. Yes, Merlin was the right person to trust with this secret. 

"Yes, everything is alright. In fact everything is better than alright. Do you remember the conversation we had a fortnight ago?" 

"The one about ..." Merlin didn't dare finish his sentence. His treacherous heart began to speed up. 

He was pretty sure he did remember. Arthur had been in one of his brooding moods and Merlin had grown tired of it, he tended to be on the receiving end of Arthur working through his problems. He had pushed and pushed until one night in his chambers Arthur admitted he had feelings for someone, but that he didn't know what to do about it because nothing could ever come of it. He revealed that his father would never approve of the person he had feelings for because they were a servant and he had a duty to the kingdom to marry a noblewoman and produce a worthy heir. Merlin had his heart in his throat the entire time they were speaking, and although he knew the servant they were talking of was Gwen, a little part of his brain had cried _Me. Please say it's me._ He had however ignored that as ferociously as he could and argued the point that love conquered all. That if Arthur thought his feelings were serious then he should pursue them, that marrying for love was more than worthy of ruling over Camelot. Arthur hadn't said anything for the rest of the night, but the following morning he had been in a better mood than he had been for days and they didn't speak of it again until now. 

"Yes. I think, so help me Gods ... I think you were right." Even though the phrase sounded forced there was a fond look in Arthur's eyes. 

"Oh," replied Merlin stunned into speechlessness. 

"Eloquent as ever," teased the prince, "I've thought about this over and over and I think I'd like to court Guinevere. Officially. And if things work out ... marry her. I think she may be the one for me." Arthur spoke with an openness that was rare for the prince and Merlin didn't know what to do. 

"Congratulations!" he burst out, he had no idea what his face was doing. Whatever it was it seemed to satisfy Arthur however, because he laughed and shook his head like if Merlin had done something particularly thick-sculled but funny. "We've got to celebrate!" continued Merlin. 

"I doubt my father would like to throw a feast," replied Arthur. 

His servant merely gave him a secretive smile and raised one of his fingers as if to say _you just wait a minute_ before disappearing from the chambers and leaving behind a very confused prince. Merlin hurried down the hall and tried to calm his breathing, he had needed to get out of the room and away from Arthur as soon as he could. He knew he should be happy, but at the moment he wasn't sure he was pulling it off. He often tried to ignore his feelings for the prince, and typically if he worked at it hard enough he could lie to himself and say he did the things he did because it was his destiny or what a good friend would do for another. In truth he did things for a much simpler reason. But now Arthur was sitting in his chambers waiting for Merlin to return. He had seemed so vulnerable when he confided in Merlin that he felt his heart would jump out of his chest. Arthur trusted him, with all that he was, and Merlin didn't want to give him any reasons to regret that. He shoved away the part of him that hissed _he tells you everything and you only ever lie to him. You're doing it this very second. Liar._

Arthur wasn't left to wonder about his servant too long because soon enough Merlin came back with a platter full of finger foods Arthur loved to snack on and wine skins filled with the good stuff smuggled underneath his tunic. Arthur's big grin made all the times cook smacked him with a wooden spoon worth it. Without command they both walked over to the soft rug that sits in front of the fire and settled down. 

"It's not a feast but-" 

"It's much better than a feast," Arthur cut him off, _because we get to eat together_ , echoed in the air between them. 

Merlin shoved a biscuit into his mouth before he said something stupid. Arthur opted for drinking straight from the wine skin and then offered some to Merlin. They drank from the same one in alternating turns as they spoke about Guinevere and Arthur. The prince always told Merlin the things he never could tell anyone else, and this was not the exception. He told him about all the reasons why he loved her. She was strong, and smart, and not afraid to tell him the truth when he needed it. She kept him in line, and yet she was warm and caring. She _showed_ him she cared for him. Arthur took the offered wine skin and drank some more. It was sweet and he briefly wondered if he could taste Merlin on it as well. 

"She's very lovable," was all Merlin said in between Arthur's praises. 

"Not to mention beautiful," added Arthur, "but it's what's inside that draws me to her." 

"Never took you for a sap," joked Merlin as he snatched the wine skin from Arthur's hand and gulped down the liquid. 

"Whoa, easy there _Mer_ lin. I know we're celebrating but we both know you can't handle your liquor." 

Merlin grumbled but acquiesced. Sitting next to the fire all warm, with Merlin by his side, Arthur felt the night couldn't have been more perfect. He was glad to have Merlin as his best friend, and even gladder to know that Merlin supported him when it came to Guinevere. He shouldn't care so much about a servants opinion, but he did. He knew now that peasants were just as important as any of the nobles, courtesy of Guinevere and Merlin's handy lessons. Despite his reprimanding of Merlin, he was feeling the room spin a little as he shifted. He looked over only to find Merlin already looking at him. Sometimes when Merlin looked at him it felt like all the air was knocked out of Arthur's lungs and he had to concentrate very hard on breathing. 

"Come now," Merlin slurred as he began to wobble into a standing position, "you need to sleep. You have that council meeting tomorrow morning." 

"Right." Arthur grunted as he stood and swatted at Merlin's hands as his servant tried to help him up as if he was a weak old lady. He tore off his tunic on the way to his bed and fumbled with the laces of his breeches. He couldn't untie them however and soon gave up, it wouldn't be the first time he didn't change into sleep clothes before going to bed. Merlin really was a terrible servant. The fact was proven as he crawled onto bed and had to yank at the duvet so that he could slide underneath. Merlin came around to help him and almost tumbled to the ground when the blanket slid free. He clumsily pushed Arthur down into the bed and tucked him in as if he were a child. 

"Get away, _Mer_ lin! This is all your fault. You can't even ready my bed so I can sleep." 

"My apologies, sire, I hadn't realized Camelots alleged best knight couldn't take on the duvet in a struggle." 

Arthur snorted and couldn't help the giddy laughter that spilled from him. Merlin always had a way of making him laugh, especially when he wanted to be angry at him. 

"Shut up you buffoon," he said with such a big smile his cheeks hurt, "put out the candles and then take yourself to bed as well. I won't let you sleep in just because you're hung over tomorrow." 

"Of course, my lord," exclaimed Merlin in a parody of what a servant should be and went around the room blowing out the candles. He blew raspberries at the flames as inefficiently as he could just to hear Arthur's giggle coming from the king sized bed. The prince would deny that he had ever giggled, but in fact he did it often when he was drunk, and it was an adorable sound that Merlin was incredibly fond of. With the last little flame going out into nothing but a plume of smoke Merlin quietly left the chambers. He had left the mess they made on the rug, but he would just clean that up tomorrow. 

He stumbled through the halls of the castle making his way out into the court yard. Him and Arthur had stayed up late talking, and now the kingdom was asleep and it was just Merlin and the moon. He found he didn't want to go to Gaius's tower and lay down by himself in his little cot. In fact that sounded like the worst thing he had ever heard. Without a clear direction he let his legs take him through the courtyard, then the lower town, then the dirt path that led past the gates and out of the city. The forest called to him always and right now with alcohol clouding his mind he didn't deny himself. 

It was a chilly night in the forest of Camelot. He clutched his jacket closer to his body and focused on the crunching leaves beneath his boots. He looked at the moon as he walked and marveled at it's pearlescent white color as it hung in an inky black sky. No one should be out all alone in the forest at this time of night, but Merlin had needed to get away from the castle and breathe. He had gone and done the dumbest thing he could've, which was very much in character for him, but still he couldn't see a way out of this one.

Merlin had fallen in love, and he definitely wasn't supposed to be.

He swallowed around a lump in his throat and ignored the burning in his eyes as he held back tears. His chest felt tight with an ache he couldn't avoid. Merlin had heard many songs about love and how wonderful it would be, he heard tales of people doing the craziest things for one another. All because of love, because if you have love then that's all you need, at least in the stories that's how it goes. But Merlin wasn't in a story or a song, Merlin was in the real world where love was the last thing a lot of people thought about. He was in the real world where love doesn't warm you, and love doesn't feed you, and love is not all you need. Merlin lived in the real world, where sometimes love doesn't exist at all, no matter how much you wish it did.

His pace slowed and slowed until he stopped in the middle of the trees and shuddered as tears finally began to spill. In the forest there were only the sounds of crickets and the leaves rustling in the wind. He felt as if the rest of the world didn't exist and it was just him and the trees. Just him and the moonlight dancing along the grass on the forest floor. His tears ran off his cheeks and down his neck soaking into the ever present neckerchief he wore around his throat. An ugly choked sound escaped from deep within his chest and his hand shot up to cover his mouth and muffle the cries he could no longer pretend weren't killing him. Every time his wet eyelashes fanned over his reddening cheeks they left moisture on his skin. Merlin cried some more, and the crickets chirped back.

He was so lonely.

He didn't feel the strength leaving his body until the rude shock of his knees hitting the dirt ran through his lanky frame. He leaned forward and placed his forehead on the dirt and shuddered as he cried. His tears seeped into the soil and the very earth underneath him seemed to shake, mirroring his grief back at him. The forest around him buzzed with magic, as if it was experiencing their masters pain with him. The wind rustled his hair and blew over his exposed nape like the soothing hand of a mother. The crickets seemed to sing to him and the moonlight shone bright upon his hair. The old magic of the earth oozed out of the dirt and swept against his forehead, a warm sensation that seeped into his skull and through his body. It soothed his own magic which trembled as he tried to contain it. The feeling made the ache in his chest twist and turn. He was their master, he bent the elements to his will, and yet he was also their child. He felt as if the very earth cradled his soul and rocked him back and forth like one would a crying baby.

Merlin laid down flatly on the ground and pressed his chest close to the grass and dirt, the grass tickled his cheek as he rested his head. The forest continued to weave its warm magic around him, and when Merlin closed his eyes and let his magic rule him it was as if the earth was alive and he could feel it's heart beating. Merlin spent his days being strong for everyone else, they always needed him and he tried his best to never disappoint, but Merlin was so tired of being strong.

This felt like when he was ten and the village kids had chased Merlin around as they called him all sorts of unpleasant things. He lifted his chin high and faced them without a trace of fear, and when a boy much bigger than him had made a fist and struck him across the face he hadn't even whimpered. He had lifted himself up off the ground, dusted off his breeches, and then promptly gotten into a fight that went on for too long and had too many opponents for one little boy to face. When it was done the children did back off, but Merlin's nose was bleeding and his face ached in all the places his skin had been split open. He stared them down and then walked home with bravado. When he had walked in to his and his mothers hut and their eyes met he broke down in tears. He was safe with her, and he didn't have to be strong, the sight of her broke all his barriers and let his pain loose.

Right now the earth was his guardian, and he was safe here. Just like that day when he was ten and he cried into his mother's shoulder, he now wept into the soil and dug his fingers into the grass and dirt. He let the earth reassure him that he was loved, even if it was not in the way he needed, even if it was not by the person he wanted. He was loved, and he was important, and one day his heart ache would be nothing but a distant memory. He hiccuped as his sobbing started to slow and his head throbbed with an exhaustion from deep within his bones. He let sleep lull him into it's darkness and let the forest be his protector. The earth knew he trusted it with all that he had as he closed his eyes and fell asleep on the grass bathed in moonlight.

\-------------------------------------------------

Arthur's laugh echoed against the stone walls of his chambers. It was an abrupt sound that only surfaced when he really couldn't hold it back, and it always seemed to explode from him in a boyish and unrestrained way. Every time Merlin heard it his heart skipped a beat, especially when he knew he had been the cause, as he often was. He watched Arthur across the room as he sat at his desk and avoided his princely duties.

"Merlin, you cannot call a nobleman that!" Arthur chided with a big smile on his face.

"But it's the truth!" Merlin cried with outrage just to see Arthur press his lips together to avoid laughing some more at his servants inappropriate behavior.

"Look, just because I am incredibly kind and let your insolence go without punishment," Arthur said as he stood from his desk and made his way over to where Merlin was polishing his armor with a fond look in his eyes, "doesn't mean that other nobles won't! If you keep talking like that, one of these days you'll slip up and do it in front of everyone, and when you do I won't be able to help you!"

"I would never slip up," Merlin deflected, "I'm smart. Unlike _some_ people I know."

He fought back the blush that threatened to show in his cheeks at the prince almost admitting he worried for him and instead made a big show of looking pointedly at the Arthur. That earned him a smack to the back of the head which he protested by whining loudly, but it hadn't hurt. In fact Merlin couldn't remember the last time Arthur hitting him had actually hurt, the prince had really mellowed out. Arthur's hand didn't fall away from Merlin's head and instead his fingers carded through Merlin's hair. He restrained a shiver that threatened to overtake him as Arthur's fingers scratched at his scalp lightly. Merlin closed his eyes and leaned in to the touch. The soft caress died down and soon enough Arthur's hand was slipping out of Merlin's hair as he began to walk backward to his desk.

Arthur opened his mouth again and began to speak, but his voice was no longer the low and precise timber Merlin had grown used to, instead a beautiful song came out. He sounded like a lark singing merrily. Merlin jumped up from his seat, _an enchantment?_ But Arthur didn't seem to notice and only continued to sing, and then the lighting in the room changed and everything started to get unbearably bright. The room was whiting out and Arthur's golden hair was disappearing behind rays of sunlight. Merlin called out to the prince but could hear nothing over the birdsong, he raised his hands and closed his eyes as the light got brighter and brighter.

Merlin blinked his eyes open and winced as the sunlight burned his retinas. Something prickled at his cheek and he jerked his head up off the ground. _Why am I on the ground?_ A lark sang from somewhere behind him and suddenly he returned back to the real world. His dream of Arthur had vanished, and now he found himself on the dirt in the forest surrounded by green trees and bright sunlight. Morning birds serenaded him as he slowly got up and stretched. He hadn't meant to spend the night, only sulk a bit away from prying eyes. He didn't even want to think about how mad Gaius would be. Not to mention Arthur would probably be seething that Merlin was late despite his warning last night. _Arthur._

Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply, letting the crisp morning air deep into his lungs. He held his breath for a few seconds then let it all out through his mouth. The forest around him was full of life, and Merlin let himself get lost in it for a few moments. He really should be sprinting back to the castle, but after last night Merlin knew he couldn't keep doing things like he had in the past. Maybe yesterday Merlin would've run all the way back to the kingdom and zipped through the kitchens to grab the prince's food. He would've fumbled with the plate and jug of freshly squeezed juice as he ran up the stairs and pushed the door to Arthur's chambers open loudly and clumsily to set everything down on the table. Arthur would already be up and getting dressed and turn his attention to Merlin to yell at him like he always did. And Merlin would enjoy every second of it, because apparently he was a masochist, and a love-struck fool.

Yet Merlin was not Merlin from yesterday, so he didn't run at all. The simple fact of the matter was that while Merlin soaked up Arthur's exasperation and enjoyed being able to rouse the prince in any way, Arthur did not feel the same way. When he looked at Arthur and couldn't tear his gaze away, Arthur's gaze was locked upon another servant with brown skin and wild curls. So he didn't run because he couldn't keep loving Arthur in the privacy of his thoughts, and taking every interaction between them two and selfishly using it as fuel for the love that grew and grew every day. That feeling belonged to Gwen, or at least it should and would. Arthur and Gwen were going to get married, and therefore Merlin had to be just Arthur's friend. 

He would use this walk to ready himself for seeing Arthur. It wasn't going to be easy to put his love aside and he knew it. He couldn't just ignore it and hope it would go away, he had already tried that. But he could replace it with other feelings, learn to prioritize other emotions towards Arthur over the love that suffocated him every time he looked at the golden prince. He knew he could learn to be content with this new situation. He had allowed himself a moment of weakness last night, and now it was time to take a breath and head into battle. 

This was indeed like that time when he was ten. When his mother had finished saying gentle words and soothing circles into his back he had pulled away from her. He had taken a breath and given her a watery smile. Hunith was always of the mind that when you had to do something very hard you were allowed to cry, but only for a moment, and then you had to be brave and face it head on. After he allowed himself to be soothed they had moved on with their day, and each time Merlin saw the same children again who jeered at him he didn't even spare them a glance. If he set his mind to it, he could face Arthur's love for Gwen, and grow to live with it just like he had grown to live with all the other painful things in his life. And if he strives a little further than self restraint he could find himself being happy for his friends. It might take some time. But he could do it. 

\---------------------------------------------------

Arthur sat at his giant dining table and popped a grape into his mouth. His breakfast was nicer than usual, and his morning going smoothly. Merlin was late, incredibly so, but then again when wasn't he? George had been so kind as to attend the prince that morning, and everything was moving without a hitch. It was absolutely terrible. He had sent for a drought for his hangover, which was also courtesy of Merlin, and was waiting for the dutiful George to return when his original manservant entered the chambers.

"Got your breakfast," he said looking sheepish as he set down a plate with an apple and a cold roll.

"How very thoughtful of you Merlin," Arthur thanked him in a clipped tone.

"You see the thing is that ... uh Gaius-" Merlin trailed off for a second, "... needed me to get herbs in the forest?" He finished his statement much more like a question.

Arthur sighed heavily, "Oh and you were just with Gaius were you?"

"Yes..."

Arthur had him now. "Well then, I don't suppose you have my drought? You must've seen George there with it."

Merlin smirked, "Yes, sire. It's right here."

As if from thin air he pulled a small vial from behind his back and smiled at Arthur with victory in his eyes. The prince's lips thinned and he glared at his friend. Merlin always managed to weasel his way out of trouble! He extended his hand and wordlessly demanded the vial. Merlin rolled his eyes and gave it to Arthur as he passed him and started to make his bed which George hadn't gotten to, thank goodness.

"A thank you would be nice," chirped Merlin. He knew he was pushing it, but that was his plan. He needed some distance from the prince today. 

"Of course, how rude of me," Arthur spoke with ice in his voice, "Thank you Merlin, _for arriving late, bringing me a stale roll, and being utterly useless at your job_!" Arthur winced like yelling at Merlin hurt his head and then gulped down Gaius's drought. His face screwed up predictably and Merlin shot him an infuriating smile while he fluffed the pillows.

"No problem, _my lord_."

Merlin had actually run into George very close to Arthur's chambers and practically wrestled the drought away. Despite being unlucky, every now and then destiny seemed to be on his side. George had huffed in offense at being sent away and left as he straightened his red jacket that had gone askew in the mini struggle. 

"What's on my itinerary for today?" Arthur asked in his ever present royal tone as he stood from the table. 

"Uh ... I think you've got a council meeting at some point," Merlin replied. Merlin was currently in the process of tucking in the corners of the duvet as messily as he could, he would have to be extra terrible at his job if he was going to be sent away. For all of Arthur's whining, and Merlin's complaints, he was actually pretty tolerant of Merlin's errors. 

"What do you mean _think_?" The prince pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers as he tried to keep his cool. 

"Well thinking is a thing people with brains do," he answered insolently, "I'm not sure how I could explain it to _you_ " he emphasized to make sure the implied insult landed.

Arthur's eyes widened as he stared at Merlin with total disbelief. Usually when Merlin came late he was somewhat competent for a few hours after to make up for his mistake, he was never dumb enough to keep poking at Arthur. "Do you _want_ to go to the stocks?" 

Alright, maybe he was pushing too much, he didn't want to get pelted with vegetables today. "No, sire," he answered and looked away quickly as he went to retrieve the cloak Arthur had been waiting for. He hadn't asked for it, but Merlin knew by now what he wanted before he said it. 

"You have your council meeting now, and knights training in the afternoon. Your father also wants to dine with you tonight." Merlin draped the cloak over Arthur's broad shoulders and secured it with a practiced ease. Arthur relaxed in Merlin's hands. George had helped him dress and even though he was very competent there had been a few miscommunications. Merlin knew him very well, they flowed together now. 

"Thank you, Merlin," he answered when he realized he'd been staring at Merlin as he secured Arthur's scabbard around his waist. He began to walk toward the door and without looking back ordered Merlin to hurry up. 

"I need to finish cleaning your chambers, our things from yesterd-" Merlin stopped abruptly and Arthur could imagine his face as he realized, "George already cleaned them up." 

"Indeed. You can thank him after you serve me at the council meeting." Behind him Merlin groaned loudly and the prince grinned widely. If there was anything that Merlin hated more than the stocks it was council meetings, they bore him even more than they bore Arthur. He thought it was a fine punishment for taking the morning off. 

Merlin trudged behind Arthur and avoided stepping on his whooshing cloak as they walked down the hall. This was fine. If he really strained himself he could almost pretend yesterday hadn't happened and that his heart wasn't currently shattered and making it hard to breathe around Arthur. It definitely helped that the prince was being a giant prat.

As he made to cross the threshold of the throne room a hand shot out from the side of the large door and grabbed hold of Merlin's ragged brown jacket. "You're not allowed in there." Arthur immediately stopped and turned to yell at the guard for touching Merlin when his fathers voice rang out with authority. 

"No servants today, Arthur. We have serious matters to discuss." His gaze settled on his son as he begrudgingly left the guard alone and shooed Merlin away with a nod of his head. Merlin nodded back without making eye contact and left the throne room behind. This could be bad, but if it was really very important Arthur would end up telling him later anyway. For now he made his way to Gaius's chambers and prepared himself for the lecture that was no doubt awaiting him. He was going to have some explaining to do, but he wasn't sure he even wanted to tell Gaius the truth, it was humiliating. 

\------------------------------------------------

The old wooden door creaked as he pushed it open to reveal Gaius hunched over a counter examining something very closely with a magnifying glass. The old man did not move to straighten up and check who it was because he already knew by the guilty shuffling of feet as they approached. He decided to make Merlin suffer a bit and let him fidget as he continued to examine the culture he had been growing for almost a month. Merlin cleared his throat next to Gaius, and Gaius continued to ignore him with a quiet and intimidating presence that only he and the mountains could hold. 

"Erm ... Good morning, Gaius," tried Merlin. 

"Merlin." 

"Oh come on!" he pleaded, much like the child Gaius saw him as, "don't be mad!" 

"I'm not mad." 

"Just disappointed?" 

Gaius huffed at the attempt at humor and mercifully turned his gaze toward his ward. He let his eyebrow do the talking and raised it to levels even Merlin couldn't withstand. He crumbled underneath Gaius's questioning look. _Piece of cake,_ thought Gaius. 

"I was in the forest! I had uh ... business to attend to." At the look of warning on Gaius's face Merlin continued, "Nothing magical! I give you my word I've been cautious. I just stayed in Arthur's room later than usual and then after I went for a walk. I fell asleep in the woods," he admitted sheepishly, "I'm sorry." 

Gaius had a few guesses as to what he had been doing in Arthur's chambers and why he fell asleep in the forest. Merlin was very much a lightweight and the few times Arthur or the knights made him drink he showed up at ridiculous hours of the morning to tell Gaius how much he loved him and then promptly fall asleep on any available surface. 

"Why did you and Arthur get so inebriated that you fell asleep in the forest?" Gaius's tone was even but an underlying reprimand was heard all the same. Merlin was an adult and he was allowed to do as he wished, and yet Gaius had always felt like a father to his ward. When Merlin didn't tell him right away Gaius went to give him the eyebrow again. It was a testament to how much Merlin wanted to keep it to himself that he withstood the eyebrow for an entire five seconds before he caved. 

Merlin slumped onto the work bench and took a deep breath, not bothering to hide his upset from Gaius anymore. "It was something Arthur told me in confidence, although I doubt it's much of a secret from anyone except his father. I won't tell you the specifics, but let's just say Albion is going to get a queen at long last." 

This had not been what Gaius had been expecting at all and he almost dropped his precious culture. He set it down and hobbled over to Merlin who sat on the bench with a blank face. Gaius wasn't one for gossip, but he was a man of science after all and he could never stop himself from forming hypothesis based on observation. He had formed many in fact about the young prince and who he might end up with, but none of them ended with Merlin being crushed. It was evident Arthur had chosen to marry someone else, and if he searched the evidence it wasn't hard to come to the conclusion this queen would be Guinevere. She was an extraordinary woman, but Gaius had no doubt in his mind a marriage between the two would end in dissatisfaction for all parties involved. 

He didn't dare to try and comfort Merlin, he knew he would just recoil at the perceived pity. Gaius was an old man who had lost a love of his own, so knew not to dig into the wound that was clearly still so fresh. He stared at Merlin, and Merlin stared back, a silent conversation taking place. 

_I'm so sorry, my boy._

_It's just the way things are._

_The pain will ease._

_I hope so._

Merlin looked away, breaking their communication and collecting himself. Gaius felt any irritation with Merlin for slinking away yesterday had evaporated as soon as he found out why and now looked at his ward with soft eyes. 

"Well if you want to be forgiven for making an old man worry, make yourself useful and go deliver my droughts, there's a nasty bug going around." 

His ward served him a crooked smile as he reached for the bag full of glass vials clinking against one another. He knew he was already forgiven, but he slung the bag over his shoulder anyway and pointed toward the door with his thumb as if to say _duty calls_. Gaius watched Merlin's back as he disappeared from the room. He was proud of him for taking it so well, he could see him hurting deep down. Merlin and Arthur were two sides of the same coin, they had to go together, and Gaius had no doubts about that. It was a solid hypothesis. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin walked out of a small hut-like house in the lower town scraping his right shoe across the gravel as hard as he could. Gaius hadn't been kidding when he said there was a nasty bug going around, Merlin had only been in a house for a few moments when a small child emptied their stomach contents on Merlin's shoes. He delivered the medicine with as much grace and care as he could and then ran out of each house. He wasn't sure he was cut out for physicians work. A kind woman had cleaned his shoes in exchange for the delivery and it was as he was waving bye to her with a big smile on his face that he bumped into someone. 

The small figure of the person bounced off his back and he barely spun around and caught their arm before they fell in the mud. As it turned out, it was Gwen. When she saw who she had bumped into she beamed up at her friend. 

"Merlin! Long time no see." It wasn't just a turn of phrase, it had been a few weeks since they had had any time with one another and she found herself missing his company. 

"Gwen!" He echoed with just as much enthusiasm and picked up her basket full of fresh flowers. "Doing chores?" He kept the basket and offered his arm up to her as if she were a lady and he her guide. She smiled warmly and slid her arm around his and let herself be led by Merlin. She knew better than to argue with him about carrying things. 

"You always treat me like a princess," she complained more for the banter than anything else. 

"Then I'm falling short. You are a queen!" Merlin declared. If only she knew how right he was, or at least would be. He wondered how long it would take Arthur to propose. He couldn't imagine it would be long, even he who saw her as a sister could see all the good qualities she had. Not to mention her beauty which couldn't be disguised even by her servants garb.

"Oh stop it!" She blushed. At Merlin's loud declaration several people had turned to look at her. "Oh! I meant to tell you about the incident in the kitchens when I next saw you. You should've been there!" 

Gwen proceeded to gift Merlin a hilarious story that included the cook covered in flour from head to toe and at least four ducks zipping around her kitchen and knocking things over. Merlin followed her and assisted her with her shopping and carrying all the things they collected from the stalls in the market. This is how they spent the rest of the morning and he found himself increasingly glad it was so. As they walked they talked like they hadn't done in a while, and he was reminded of how strong their friendship was since that first day they met. Merlin realized how much he had missed Gwen and a spark of guilt churned in his stomach at having felt envious of her. What would she think of him if she knew how he felt about the love of her life? 

He laughed as his future queen snorted when she told him about how her and the cook corralled the ducks. Gwen was an exceptional woman, and she deserved someone like Arthur. She was smart, strong, and kind. He never wanted to feel anything but love towards her again. In her he could see a queen who the people admired and respected for the good qualities she would use to rule the kingdom alongside Arthur. Merlin didn't want to wallow in his own pain, but rejoice in his friends happiness and success. When the day came Gwen would rule as Camelots queen he would protect her just like he protected Arthur, and no harm would ever touch his friends if he could help it. With the vow to be their loyal servant his heart ache began to dull. 

\-------------------------------------------------

Arthur exited the meeting with a headache steadily building behind his eyes. Scout reports had informed Uther of strange sightings in the forests skirting the borders of the kingdom to the north. A large scaled creature was seeing flying above a few villages but no one had caught a close enough glimpse to say what it was. All they knew was it was white and had large wings, it screeched horribly, and ever since it was spotted livestock had started to go missing. No one said it out loud, but the question of whether it was a dragon or not floated thick in the air. Morgana's name also went unspoken, but she was never far from anyone's mind when potential matters of sorcery were discussed. His father had given no indication of what it was or if he suspected Morgana, but then again Arthur knew well that Uther was rarely forward with his thoughts. Last time there had been a dragon Uther hadn't said anything either. All the calculations happened in the privacy of his mind, and by the time you found out about them it was because his plans were in motion.

Uther had ordered Arthur to go and check on the reports. He had hand picked the knights that would accompany Arthur on the days trip, despite Arthur's protests his father held firm in his decision. Arthur's knights had proved themselves over and over again, but Uther still disapproved of their status and didn't trust their motives. He chose four of his most trusted knights, those who helped when the purge was in full swing. They were all much older than Arthur, but he knew them to be skilled fighters and incredibly loyal to his father and therefore to him. Despite a good poker-face Uther had still demanded that the issue be seen to as soon as possible, which meant Arthur would be setting out today. 

He stomped into his chambers ready to throttle anyone who got in his way. Luckily for Merlin, he wasn't there as always and escaped the royal melt down with his head still on. Unluckily for Merlin, he was Arthur's servant, and he was going to have to clean up Arthur's chambers which currently looked like a tornado had passed through. Although it seemed the mess could wait because the prince almost immediately began barking orders about packing bags and saddling horses. Merlin knew Arthur only got like this now when something big was stressing him out. He wondered what had happened during the meeting to upset the prince so much. Instead of hurrying to fulfill Arthur's demands he moved calmly around the room setting up to do the one obvious thing Arthur had overlooked in his anger. 

" _Mer_ lin, would you like to explain to me what in the Gods names you're doing?" 

"Well, sire, I presume we're setting out on our monthly life threatening expedition?" 

"Get to the point." 

Holding up Arthur's chain mail Merlin stared at Arthur square in the eye, "I just thought you might want some help getting this on?" 

Arthur's puffed up chest deflated and he looked at Merlin with a face that was almost an apology. With a nod of his head Merlin began to secure the armor onto his prince's body. Arthur's tense shoulders began to droop now that Merlin was around and he rubbed at his temples as the warlock did the buckles on his hauberk. 

"Father suspects sorcery in the north." 

Merlin understood quickly who it really was that had Arthur in such a state. The betrayal of his sister had hurt Arthur almost as much as it had hurt Uther, although he was a lot less genocidal about it. He pulled the buckles on Arthur's gauntlets tight and looked him in the eye. "It'll be alright. I'll be there to protect you." 

Arthur laughed and shook his head. It was okay that Arthur didn't believe him, at least it had made the prince laugh. They stared at each other for a second before Merlin looked away. He was always the first to look away. Arthur turned then and walked to his desk and Merlin understood it for the dismissal that it was. He set off to saddle the horses and get everything in the packs they would need for the journey and left Arthur to have his alone time. 

He needed alone time of his own in fact. Every time they went on one of these treks something bad happened, and the pit in Merlin's stomach didn't give him confidence this time would be different. As he led Arthur's stallion out of the stable he thought about the vow he had made to himself earlier. He would make sure Arthur got home safe to his future queen. He would protect him, no matter the cost.


	2. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip takes a turn that will force Merlin to make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After more consideration of the timeline I've reached the conclusion that this is taking place after season 3, so Morgana and Morgause are in cahoots and they've done some damage but have also been defeated. The knights of the round table exist of course but the dorocha attack hasn't happened and Lancelot is still alive. 
> 
> The canon-divergence is most present in the relationships between the different characters, which includes dragons. My story doesn't follow the time-line of the show rigidly.
> 
> I hope you guys don't mind the divergence from canon too much, and I promise I'l make everything as clear as possible!

The ride into the forest proved to be more uncomfortable than predicted. They were a few hours in to their trek and only a few words had been uttered. Arthur seemed content to ride his horse quietly, but Merlin was used to the ruckus that the knights of the round table made. No teasing jokes aimed at Arthur or Merlin were being thrown around, and no crazy tale of one of Gwaine's adventures was being told. The rowdiest of the knights with them was named Gedrif and his only comment had been about how good the weather was for traveling. A few grunts of agreement made an appearance before the knights went back to their silent vigil of the area surrounding them. Merlin thought maybe this is how patrols and journeys were supposed to be, the near silence prevented giving away their position, the sounds the horses made were enough to scare away any surrounding animals. 

These knights had ridden alongside Uther when he was doing his conquering and their old fashioned values were deeply rooted. He could see their disapproval of him riding so closely to Arthur and occasionally talking to the prince. Arthur, much to his credit, made sure to acknowledge each of Merlin's statements and show that they weren't unwelcome. Usually the prince would've made some snide remark or told his servant to shut up, but that was only because he knew it was understood he didn't mean it ... most of the time. But surrounded by these knights, he wanted there to be no question of the value he placed upon Merlin. While the knights made their disapproval known, they didn't dare talk down to Merlin or "put him in his place." Just like their closely held values, they had courtly manner deeply ingrained, and openly disagreeing with the prince regent just wouldn't do. 

"Are we almost there?" whispered Merlin, aware of how petulant the question sounded. 

"We are no closer than the _last_ time you asked," hissed Arthur under his breath. 

The warlock couldn't help but be pleased by Arthur's irritation. "Technically we _have_ to be closer than the last time I asked." 

"Technically, if you keep being an idiot I'm going to hit you."

"That's not how you use that word." 

Arthur turned to give Merlin the glare that sent the most experienced fighters cowering. Merlin just smiled back. 

"Why do you keep asking if you know the answer?" huffed Arthur. 

"We've been riding for so long. We're not going to get there by sundown, we might as well hunker down for the night." 

"Oh, I see. Is your little bottom sore?" teased Arthur with a smirk pulling at his lips. 

"My bottom is none of your concern, sire."

Arthur seemed to startle at Merlin's comeback and his face reddened. "I didn't imply it was!" 

His mouth opened and closed but no more actual words came out. Finally after long moments of Arthur struggling and Merlin being pleased the prince murmured something that sounded suspiciously like _shut up, Merlin_. Behind them a pleased _hmph_ sounded and the group fell quiet once more. The flush on Arthur's face began to fade as Merlin simply rolled his eyes and looked away. 

What a strange thing to say to someone, of course Arthur wasn't focused on Merlin's arse. Well he had mentioned it but he didn't mean to insinuate anything- _argh! Merlin_. He was often one step ahead when it came to their arguing much to Arthur's displeasure. He had a way of twisting everything the prince said against him, but really Arthur only disliked this when it caused him to lose their verbal sparring matches. Usually he would win, even if Merlin would fight this statement fiercely, and then it was very pleasing to have someone to fight with like that. He let the ride continue until the sun seemed to dip even lower in the sky just to stick it to Merlin a little. 

"We won't be able to ride much further today. We will look for a place to camp for the rest of the night and leave tomorrow at first light." 

"Yes, sire," echoed behind Arthur as the knights answered him back. _Boot lickers_ thought Merlin. 

"This way," Merlin whispered to Arthur and began to pull on his mare's reins to the right. He did this as discreetly as possible because Arthur had given him an earful once or twice about ordering him about in front of others. In this case Arthur simply followed, Merlin somehow always knew of a perfect place to camp out. No matter how deep they were in the woods or if they were somewhere unknown to him his servant always knew the way, he navigated the forest with such ease it almost seemed like he could see the path ahead. Too bad Merlin chose to use his skills very selectively because his sense of direction or ability to travel through the forest failed him every time they went on a hunt. 

They approached a small clearing, it was only really enough for a few men so they would be in tight quarters, but it had good visibility around them and no spots for someone to hide and ambush during the night. The knights began to dismount their horses and Merlin quickly got to tending to them. Some of the knights eyed Merlin with suspicion as he took their stallions but he simply smiled his friendliest smile and tugged the reins from their calloused grip. They thought him an idiot, but right now Merlin was grateful that was all they thought of him. 

"Merlin tend to my horse. Oh, and you'll need to get a fire going sooner than later. Also get me some fresh water from the stream, I'm parched," the prince ordered as pompously as he could.

"Anything else, my lord?" Merlin asked with thinning lips and narrowed eyes. 

Arthur displayed his teeth in grin that was meant only to rile Merlin, "I'm sure I'll think of something." 

Merlin groaned and got busy. All these years of knowing the prince and he was still a giant prat when he wanted to be, which was most of the time. Thankfully these knights didn't load Merlin with their chores and began to set up their own sleeping rolls. Gedrif actually offered to get the fire going and Arthur reluctantly nodded his approval. There was one less thing to make Merlin do. Another knight along with Gedrif got busy collecting fire wood while the other three stayed back to feed their horses a handful or oats or rest their tired backs. They were still proficient warriors, but the years are harsh on any man. 

He led two of the knights horses down stream and let them drink their fill. With a childish pout he filled Arthur's water skin with cold water. The prat hadn't even been running low and when Merlin protested he declared it was simply "too warm," if the knights weren't there he would've turned the prince into a toad there and then. He missed the knights of the round table, if they had heard the prince demand more water because the one in his water skin was too warm Arthur would've never heard the end of it.

"He's unreasonable!" he exclaimed to the horses as they drank. The brown one with a long blond wavy mane neighed as a response, the black one twitched an ear. "I knew you would agree, Honey. And as for you midnight, you only think that because he fed you an apple once. You traitor." 

A twig snapping behind him alerted him to a presence behind his back. He swirled around ready to face a number of dangers but was met only with a pair of bemused blue eyes. 

"They answered you, did they?" joked the older knight. His name was Kaen ... or was it Keagan? 

"I was just talking to myself," laughed Merlin. 

"Don't worry, I talk to them too," supplied the knight like if it was their shared secret. The wrinkles around his eyes gave the impression he was always smiling. He joined Merlin in crouching down and began to fill his own water skin. The man had a comforting air about him, and despite his growing age his handsome features remained. "May I ask why you're accompanying the prince on the trip? Don't be offended, it's just you don't quite seem like the fighting type, and that's almost certainly where this is headed." 

Merlin hadn't expected the question, usually people didn't concern themselves with servants and peasants. In all his years in Camelot he had gotten away with going unnoticed, or if noticed, at least unaddressed. "Oh, uh, well I just thought ... maybe Arth- I mean the prince might need me," he finished lamely. 

The knight stared at him for a second making sweat spring into existence on Merlin's palms. "Loyal servants are always admirable." Merlin's eyes widened at the praise. "I've served Uther for over twenty years. It's important to be there when our masters need us." Merlin stared back, and in Kaen's eyes saw some of himself mirrored there. A deep devotion etched the mans face, he would be there to support his king regardless of the order. The thought scared Merlin in more ways than one. He sprang up suddenly and stumbled over his own feet. 

"Arthur's waiting!" he blurted and struggled to get the horses to turn and walk with him. Neither of them acknowledged his slip of calling the prince by his first name and the knight simply watched him go with an intense gaze. He didn't like the feeling at all, it was as if the man knew him in ways he didn't want to be known. He was good at his job, and he was sniffing Merlin out like Uther's hunting hounds sniffed out a fox. 

When Merlin stumbled back into the camp, he couldn't have been more relieved to see Arthur's infuriating smirk. "When will you learn to walk?" inquired Arthur in a voice that sounded almost like genuine curiosity.

"I'll do it the day you learn to stop being a prat," Merlin retorted as he handed the prince the now filled water skin. 

"Ha-ha," came the princes' fake laughter, but his eyes revealed actual amusement behind the facade of irritation. He was very glad for Merlin's company once more.

Gedrif had indeed lit a fire and the knights all sat around it, except for Arthur. He was a few feet away from them on a convenient log. They were good enough knights Arthur knew, but while Merlin was gone they had settled down and began to eat dried meats and gossip about the day ahead. It amused Arthur that no matter how tough the knights were or how old, they would always gossip like kitchen maids, if not more. The prince had approached ready to bestow upon them the honor of sitting with him when he heard what they were saying. It was nothing new to him that people in the kingdom disliked magic, but he hadn't lived through the purge the same way they had. What he discovered with them was something much stronger than a hatred of magic, and the plans they were making for the day ahead were one's filled with a readiness to decimate and ask questions later. When they had realized Arthur was listening they looked over to him, and it was not a look of shock at being caught or of reverence to be around their future king, it was one of challenge. It was as if they knew Arthur's skin crawled under his armor when he heard the things they were saying and were daring him to speak openly in the protection of magic. Arthur didn't. He fixed them with a stern look that seemed to settle at least a few of them and had the others looking away. He decided against sitting with them then and walked as far as he could from them, which wasn't far in the small clearing and waited for Merlin.

His servant had spared him a questioning look about his location before rolling his eyes and retrieving some food for the prince, which really only consisted of different kinds of jerky and a stale bread roll. Merlin looked around in an exaggerated mime of secrecy and produced a chunk of cheese which he had brought along just for the prince. Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes as he took the food. Then Merlin set about spreading Arthur's bed roll. They were used to sleeping in all sorts of conditions, throughout the years they had slept in the forest more times than he could count, sometimes on nothing but the dirt or resting against a tree trunk. This is why Arthur found it ridiculous as he watched Merlin fuss over making his bed roll as comfortable as possible. 

"Stop being such a mother hen," teased the prince from the log he was sitting on. 

"I am NOT a mother hen." 

"You most certainly are. Look, you're making a fluffy nest for me as we speak." 

Merlin looked down at the bed roll that was lined with soft furs ... maybe the prince had a point, but he wasn't going to let him win this. "Then put your food down and let me go find some grubs for you to eat." 

The dried meat that Arthur was about to take a bite of stopped halfway to his face and his nose scrunched up in disgust. Merlin laughed out loud leaving no room for interpretation about who he was laughing at. He knew just what Arthur was thinking about. It had been one of the many times they had stayed in the forest in fact, with no bed rolls, or equipment of any kind. It hadn't really been their decision to stay, it was more like they were stranded in an unfamiliar area that seemed to have no small game or vegetation. Merlin had been subtly using his magic to nudge them in the right direction but he couldn't just tell Arthur to follow him and make it home as fast as he could've on his own. It had been almost two days without food, and the water skin that Arthur had carried with him had been empty for hours. They found a fallen over tree with grubs wiggling around at its roots. Arthur imperiously informed Merlin that grubs had essential nutrients they would need. 

Merlin looked at the prince as if he were mentally deranged but Arthur simply began to mock him for being a girl. The rumbling in his stomach and the challenge in Arthur's words drove the warlock to snatch up a grub and pop it into his mouth. The taste wasn't actually offensive, but the texture was abominable. The first bite broke a thin layer of skin and immediately the grub's insides shot out onto his tongue. He screwed up his face in horror and swallowed it as fast as he could, avoiding having to chew it any further. He didn't notice he had scrunched up his eyes closed until he had to open them to look at Arthur absolutely howling with laughter. He was bent over at the waist, hands on knees, laughing so hard his face was reddening. 

"Your-" he broke in to peels of laughter once more, "your face, Merlin!" 

"Think it's funny do you?" Merlin asked with a dangerous edge to his voice that Arthur missed because of his obnoxious cackling. Grabbing the fattest grub he could see he turned back to Arthur who was now standing with his head thrown back and his eyes closed as laughter still spilled from him. He shoved the grub into Arthur's mouth and that shut him up almost immediately. Closing his mouth reflexively he bit down on the creature and Merlin could see the exact moment it burst in the prince's mouth. His eyes went comically wide and his mouth opened as if he couldn't bare to keep it in his mouth a second more, except he met Merlin's amused eyes and he refused to be as much of a baby as Merlin had been. He closed his mouth with a snap and swallowed without making any facial expression. 

"You're disgusting," said Merlin shaking his head at Arthur. 

"And you ... are in _so_ much trouble," the prince growled. 

"Arthur, hold on," Merlin said backing away from him slowly, "let's be civil about thi-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence before he had been tackled to the ground. They wrestled around on the dirt until they were breathless and laughter made them weak. They lay side by side panting with smiles on their faces. Arthur enjoyed wrestling with Merlin, he had never been much of a fighter, but he was like a slippery eel. He somehow always got out of Arthur's hold and gave him trouble. He looked over to Merlin and they silently agreed to not eat any more grubs. Arthur had trusted Merlin for the rest of the day then and followed his servant and his uncanny sense of direction at times. At the end of the day they had made it back to the kingdom and when Merlin tried to leave Arthur with a table full of food the prince had forced his servant to sit and eat with him. 

Now Merlin sat upon the dirt and smiled up at Arthur on the log and he could tell he was also remembering the fun they had had despite eating the grubs. As the sun went down it shrouded the clearing in it's soft orange light and made Arthur _shine_. Merlin stared breathlessly at the way Arthur's smile was bright and unhindered, at the way the sun made his golden hair look silky soft, at the way his skin was unmarred and tan. Through the sun rays he could see dust moats floating and leaves falling from the trees in slow motion. In fact everything was moving in this lazy way, as if it was all happening through a thick coat of honey. Merlin realized it was his magic, he had slowed time just to make Arthur's smile last longer. His heart skipped a beat at the living painting he had created, with his king at the center of it all. He let his magic fizzle out and the world whooshed back in to motion. The knights behind Arthur laughed rowdily for the first time that day. 

Arthur stared at Merlin as his servant stared at him. The sun was dipping below the horizon and it's light had turned Merlin's eyes gold for a second. It had only been a gleam of the sparkling color before his ocean blue eyes returned. Even though it had happened so quickly it made Arthur freeze upon the log, the gold fit so well there, something in his chest ached at the sight. He had seen that golden shine in other's eyes before, usually as they cursed him to a painful death, but in Merlin's eyes it made his world tilt on it's axis. He would never hurt Arthur, not even if that gold was more than the sun. 

He mentally shook the thought away, it hadn't been the first time a thought like that had popped in his mind, but he never let them take root. Merlin was just his servant, his friend, and nothing more. He thrust out his hand and offered Merlin some of the meat he was eating. His friend took it with a small smile and tore at the meat hungrily. He made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as he ate the salty jerky. It was not exactly delicious by Arthur's standards, but by Merlin's it was heaven. Arthur felt joy at being able to please Merlin with the food but let none of it show on his face. He couldn't have Merlin knowing or he would surely take to stealing Arthur's food even more than he already did. 

The night snuck up on them soon after and they settled down so they could get up at first light. A knight with a thick beard but thinning hair offered to keep watch and no one had argued with him. Merlin laid down with his back to Arthur and soon fell into an exhausted sleep. The prince however lay awake staring at his servants back. The image of gold where blue should be coming to mind each time he closed his eyes. However, he didn't think about what it meant, his head swimming with exhaustion of his own. Soon enough sleep took him to and for a moment in time everything was alright. 

\--------------------------------------------

_His lungs burned as he tried to look through the black smoke that was wafting through the air. The heat was unbearable and his skin felt singed as he took a step forward through the smoke. The fire that burned all around him caused his eyes to water and worsened his vision as he searched desperately. Outside there was the screaming of terrified villagers as a deafening screech tore through the air. His heart hammered against his ribs as he looked around him wildly, hands spread out ahead of him searching for his daughter._

__

_"Mierden!" He cried and his voice came out in the high pitch of a woman and raspy with tears. "Mierden!"_

_"Mommy!" came the voice of his little girl from somewhere across the smoke._

_"Keep talking, darling, and mommy will find you! I need you to speak louder!"_

_"Mommy, I'm over here!" her sweet little voice rang out in the hut again and Merlin felt tears of sadness welling up and choking him. He couldn't see her at all, and each time she spoke he didn't know in which direction to move. He took a blind step forward and tripped on his skirts which he was unaccustomed to wearing. His palms hit the ground and he felt the skin scraping off on the gravel. A support beam fell and pinned one of his short legs under it's weight. It was on fire and the heat roared and licked toward his face. Without trying he knew he had no magic in this body and the fire would not listen to his commands if he tried to put it out._

_"Mommy! Hurry! IT HURTS!" shrieked Mierden, "MOMMY! IT'S BURNING ME!"_

_He covered his mouth to stop the sob that was threatening to rip him apart. He couldn't let her hear him or she would know they were never getting out of this. "I'm almost there my sweetest Mierden!" he called out to her in his calmest voice, "just close your eyes sweetie. I'll be there any second now. And we'll be together. I love you."_

_"MOMMY!" cried Mierden like she knew no one was coming at all. Merlin coughed violently and fought to stay awake, but the smoke made it impossible to breathe and each passing second he got dizzier and dizzier. "Mier-" he said breathlessly and then promptly passed out._

Merlin regained his consciousness with a great big breath and he shot up in his bed roll. He took in the forest air in big gasping breaths and tried to get himself under control. He was awake, and he was not a woman in a fire, and he had never had a daughter named Mierden. He closed his eyes and let the air out through his mouth to calm himself. His tunic stuck to his torso with sweat and his hair stuck up in every direction. Next to him Arthur still looked fast asleep, it almost pained him to shake the prince awake, but he had a bad bad feeling in his gut and it was time for them to get moving anyway. 

Arthur's eyes shot open and he muffled his groan in the crook of his elbow. He didn't want to whine about waking up like he usually did with others around and an important mission to accomplish, but no matter if he was the prince, he was also _not_ a morning person. One look at Merlin however had him snorting himself fully awake because his servant looked completely disheveled. 

"And I thought _I_ didn't do well in the morning," he murmured sleepily at Merlin as he sat up and reached for his sword to secure it once more. 

"Prat," Merlin managed weakly and jumped up to start packing, "we've got to get moving." Merlin rolled up his bedroll with impressive precision and then shoved Arthur off of his to do the same. 

"Oi!" he complained shooting the knights a look to make sure they hadn't seen, but not all of them were awake yet and the one's that were looked busy getting their own things. Kaen walked back into the makeshift camp after his own turn taking watch and nodded at the prince. Arthur nodded back acknowledging the older knight. They didn't sit and eat breakfast, instead they all moved as efficiently as they could to get going. It was strange how quietly they all did things but Arthur appreciated it nonetheless, there was a strange atmosphere of foreboding that demanded silence. Soon enough the party of knights and Merlin were sitting straight upon the backs of their horses and moving in formation toward their desired destination. 

Only the morning birds sang as they made their way at an appropriate speed. They were headed to the edge of their borders to a small village named Wedinfeld which was so small and unproblematic Arthur had only heard of it once. Yesterday. It was far from the castle and no one from their had ever asked for an audience with a noble, they kept to themselves and lived their lives. Their scouts came nonetheless but with little frequency and each time the report was as bland as it usually was for the other villages. Little people, little food, little riches. This time around however the villagers had been terrified out of their minds and their minimal livestock was disappearing, quickly diminishing the little food they had to eat. 

As they neared where the village should be Arthur expected to start seeing some action. A path had begun to appear but it was thin as if made by people walking with their livestock and nothing more. It had been almost four days since the villagers said anything and the information had gotten to the castle. As they followed the path the air took on a heavy quality and everything was eerily quiet. Even the birds that had sang them through their journey seemed to be suddenly gone. Hands reflexively tightened on the hilts of swords and magic bubbled under the surface of pale skin. 

The trees finally opened up and the village was visible for the first time ... or whatever was left of it was. The scene before them was truly gruesome, so much so that for a split second all of Arthur's training left him and the only thing that stood before the annihilated village was a man with a broken heart. Huts were nothing but rubble and scorch marks, and the bodies of the villagers lay strewn upon the ground. Regaining their wits they slid off their horses and walked with caution through the destruction. Arthur didn't bother giving directions about what to do if they found anyone alive. They wouldn't. 

He passed what was left of the men and women that lived here before, their bodies littering the small dirt path that connected what was once their homes. They had been trying to run from whatever got them. The air was thick with the smell of fire and burned flesh and his stomach did flips with each step he took, he was glad he hadn't eaten breakfast. He closed his eyes for a second and settled himself. He was only the prince but these were still his people, it felt as if someone had hacked off one of his limbs. Every man, woman, and child here was his to protect and he was too late. Fierce pain needled at his heart and he willed himself to be strong. More than ever he needed to keep it together and find that damned creature. Looking at the wasteland around him he had no doubt it was a dragon, once more magic had stricken Camelot. 

Ezmere, the bearded knight with a balding head, spoke behind the prince. "There are no survivors, my lord." 

Arthur's jaw flexed and he didn't turn to look at the knight. Suddenly the thought of Merlin crashed into his mind. Merlin, who hated going hunting. Merlin, who knelt next to a knight each time they lost one and gingerly closed their eyes. Merlin, who had cried for Balinor the dragon lord after knowing him for just a day. How would he be taking this?

Without a second thought he began walking, looking for his manservant. In the distance he saw Merlin's back as he stood among the remains of what was once a hut, his red neckerchief singling him out in this black and grey landscape. Arthur walked up behind his friend and softly called out to him, but he didn't move at all. His head was tilted down and his shoulders shook lightly. Arthur looked down as well only to lay his eyes upon two bodies. They were charred much like all the others, but these were arranged in a heart wrenching scene. One lay under a beam, although it was little more than a thin black stick now it was not hard to decipher it had once been too heavy for the woman underneath to move, her skirts covered in ash. A few feet from her was another body, except this one was much smaller. Little bones lay arranged reaching toward the woman and Arthur had to look away. 

"Merlin," the prince tried again. 

"Her name was Mierden," Merlin whispered thickly. 

The phrase sent a cold chill through Arthur. "You knew her?" 

"Like a daughter." 

Arthur opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a screech above them as a shadow moved along the ground. Everyone's eyes shot to the sky where a dragon cut it's way through the air at high speeds. This one did not look like the one Arthur had defeated all that time ago, even from this distance he could tell it was smaller. It's scaly skin gleamed bright white in the sunlight and it's body seemed to be deformed. Arthur didn't know much about dragon anatomy, but the way bones seemed to protrude at awkward angles didn't look quite right. However, this didn't seem to slow the creature down at as it swooped back around and closer to the ground this time. Another screech had their ears ringing. 

"Retreat!" yelled Arthur as loud as he could and the knights seemed to take offense to the idea. 

"We must kill the beast!" growled Ezmere. 

"How many dragons have you fought and slaughtered with nothing but five men and their swords?" questioned Arthur with fierce authority. 

Ezmere clenched his jaw but shut his mouth and everyone began to move. They mounted their horses which were twitching with nervous energy and spurred them into a gallop. Merlin fell to the back of the group among the chaos and looked up at Aithusa. He was feeling so many things right now he couldn't even sort through it, but the one thing he did know was this was his fault. Up there was his child, and he had been a very negligent parent. The burned flesh behind him was his doing one way or another and he had to put a stop to it. Aithusa didn't seem to be satisfied with the carnage behind them and was chasing them as they galloped, high above the trees his mangled form kept up with ease. Why was Aithusa doing this? 

The panicked neighing ahead of him snapped his head back down to the ground where the horses ahead of them screeched to a halt and then reared up onto their hind legs. A series of _Whoas_ rang out as the riders attempted to calm their rides with little success. Despite the horses unease there was nothing ahead of them and Merlin's heart starting racing. Whatever was going on this was not good. He couldn't wait any longer and he let out his magic like an invisible probe to see if he could figure out what was going on. 

Ahead of them stood a wall made of magic, to the human eye it was invisible, but to animals it was plain as day. Animals always seemed to be much more sensitive to magic than humans, Merlin had found, and in this case it was a good thing because that magic was angry ready to harm. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he knew for sure they shouldn't touch it. Of course Arthur saw none of this and he tried to calm his horse and keep them moving. Merlin encouraged his mare to calm itself letting his magic soothe the horse and trotted to the prince's side. 

"Arthur stop moving!" he ordered the prince, and it was a testament to how crazy everything was that Arthur didn't have a snarky retort. 

"Why?" asked Arthur through clenched teeth as he tried not to be thrown from his horse. 

A voice projected through the forest seeming to be everywhere at once, "Because if you cross the wall," the voice spoke suavely, "you'll be dead within seconds."

A chill went down Merlin's spine at the voice. Even without looking he knew just who the voice belonged to and judging by the way Arthur's back went rigid so did he. 

_This is it_ , thought Merlin, _there's no way to get out of it this time_. Overhead Aithusa screeched mightily and below him his mare trembled. They were stuck, and he had a feeling there was only going to be one way out. Merlin took a deep breath and focused on steadying his racing heart recalling his earlier promises. 

_Arthur's making it home no matter the cost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff-hanger but the next chapter is written and only needs editing so I thought I might as well post.


	3. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation ensues and jump starts the boy's destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty enough for ya?

The wall began to expand with a wordless spell until all the knights and Merlin were trapped in a dome of the angry red magic. The horses sensed the danger and backed away from the crackling energy around them creating a huddle near the center. 

"Come out from where you hide, or are you too afraid?" goaded Arthur. 

A mocking laugh echoed around them but still the sorceress did not show herself. Instead the energy that had only been visible to Merlin and the horses suddenly spluttered into life for all to see forcing varied sounds of shock and concern from the knights. For the first time they were seeing how trapped they really were. Above them Aithusa screeched one last time and then swooped down into the forest where they could no longer see. 

"We were expecting a group of knights," said the smug voice, "but we didn't think Uther would be stupid enough to send his precious little boy." 

"What do you want Morgause?" growled Arthur. 

"Only the kingdom," she said finally appearing from behind a tree, still looking every bit the intimidating woman she was. 

"Enough of this cowardice! Camelot does not consort with filthy magic users. We must kill the witch!" cried Ezmere. He unsheathed his sword and with a battle cry spurred his reluctant horse forward. 

The wall buzzed as Ezmere crashed through it with no resistance. For a second all in the dome watched with bated breath to see if it had only been a bluff. Their question was answered when the knight slumped forward and his battle cry was cut off. The horse tripped and fell with a loud crunch. It whined and neighed as its legs stopped kicking, instead lying stiffly with one of the rider's legs underneath its massive weight and his body sprawled awkwardly on the forest floor.

Morgause hadn't even flinched and stared at the body with apathy, "Does your kind ever tire of being crazed and hateful?" 

"The same could be asked of you," answered Arthur. 

She smirked and finally looked up at the prince once more, "You've got a lot of bravado for someone utterly trapped, but don't fret little Pendragon, I'll soon teach you manners." 

Just as she had appeared, she vanished and no amount of calling to her made her come back. Merlin could feel her magic retreating and quickly began thinking through what he could do. He was pretty sure he could weaken the force field but not without a blatant act of magic. Arthur was on his own horse, by the look in his eyes making his own calculations. His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw set, it seemed he was just as stuck as Merlin. 

"Dear Brother," came Morgana's voice as she approached with Morgause at her side. 

"Morgana." 

"I'm most pleased to see you," she said flashing a smile that was all teeth and no warmth, "you will be more useful than any of the knights would've been."

In her fair hands Morgana carried a fine wooden box. Morgause caught her gaze and nodded once, then with an outstretched hand and a murmured word one of the knights began to exit the dome on his horse. Merlin felt the instant the magic shifted and let the knight through without harm, if he could just figure out what word she had used, or how she had manipulated the force field instead of blasting it away he might still find a way out of this for them. 

The knight startled as the horse walked through but tried to remain as dignified as he could before he died. Morgause laughed at the sight of the terrified knight and didn't bother to tell him he would not be harmed. When he came to the conclusion on his own his body slumped minutely in the saddle, full of relief. 

"Our last attempt to conquer the kingdom did not go as planned," began Morgana as she approached the knight who still sat atop his horse. 

"You were defeated like you deserved, freaks like you will never rule in Camelot," he spat down at her. In his youth he had slaughtered many magic users for his king, he had found that they bled just like anyone else and he tried to keep that thought in his mind. He would not show any fear to these witches, no matter if they had the power to snap his neck with a few words and a flash of golden eyes. 

"So me and my sister thought we might try a different approach this time," she continued like the knight was nothing more than a fly buzzing around her. "Sister, if you would." 

"My pleasure," purred Morgause. Her eyes flashed gold and she was commanding the knight off the horses back and onto the dirt. 

His armored body hit the ground with a heavy thud and as he tried to stand he found he could only kneel. His arms were pressed tight to his sides, as if an invisible rope was wrapped securely around his body. He strained until veins began to pop up on his neck but he could not move an inch. 

"Let him go," said Arthur, "Do what you wish to me." 

"You'll get your turn, Arthur," Morgana sneered, "Now be a good little prince and wait." 

She flipped up the silver latch that held the box closed and opened the lid. At first nothing happened but then a hissing sound began to rattle from inside the box until a little head popped out. It was only a small black snake, not a variety Arthur had seen before, but it didn't look like anything special. Beside him Merlin clenched his teeth and concentrated on the creature hard. It's magic was corrupted, a black cloud seeming to hang where the usual sparkle of gold should be. Suddenly a second head popped up next to the first ... then a third, and a forth, and fifth. They didn't stop until seven little heads peaked out, their tongues flicking in the air. They all rose at once to reveal their necks connected to a single body. They almost looked like a small tree as they hissed and flicked their tongues. 

"These little darlings will be the downfall of Uther's kingdom" Morgana said displaying them proudly before drawing a shining dagger from one of her over sized sleeves. She walked to the knights back and tipped his head forward until his chin rested upon his chest. "In the past we've tried brute force, perhaps it is time for a bit of subtlety" she continued as she cut into the back of the knights neck. To his credit he didn't make so much as a peep. Her dagger moved swiftly as it sliced off one of the creatures many heads and then was neatly tucked back into her sleeve, still dripping with blood. 

Despite the disconnect from it's body the head still squirmed around and when she placed it to the wound it wiggled its way underneath the knights skin. Now he couldn't help but to cry out as the little creature furrowed into his neck. The remaining knights within the dome were tense with unspent energy. They had to do _something_ and yet they had no idea what. Not only that, but the prince gave no orders. 

"I must apologize in advance but you won't be making it home," Morgana said turning back to the group, "but I will grant you all less painful deaths than his, he is only necessary so that your prince can see what lies ahead for him." 

"What is it doing to him?" asked Arthur as evenly as he could, still refusing to bow to his sister's attempt at intimidation.

Next to Morgana the knight keened as the creature moved under his skin, the rise of its thin body visible to everyone. "Nothing yet, but soon enough it'll ensure he is at my command. I only need to give the order." She knelt next to the Knight and looked into his eyes. Her pale hands came to rest upon his aging face and she steadied his head. The way she touched him was almost tender, but her eyes were nothing but ice and her words devoid of care. "You will use your own sword to kill yourself." 

The Knight's eyes widened and he tried to shake his face free from her hands but his restricted movement did not allow him to retreat and he was forced to look into her eyes as he felt the command take root. At first he heard it and he knew he did not want it, but with each second that passed his thoughts were narrowing down only to the command. Merlin could see the black cloud expanding over the knights mind slowly consuming him, but he still did not move. He needed to see how it worked or else he would never be able to get Arthur free of it, although he hoped to get Arthur free long before Morgana got anywhere near him. 

Morgana looked back to Morgause and the blonde let her eyes shine gold once more. Suddenly the knight was unsheathing his sword, momentarily Arthur thought he had gotten free and would run Morgana through. The knight however only sat kneeling upon the forest floor holding the gleaming sword with shaky hands. He was trying to fight the command but every part of him screamed to follow it, that the order must be fulfilled. As the inky smoke clouded his mind completely all the fight left him and with newly steady hands he turned the sword toward himself and fell upon it. The sound of the sword piercing him and his last rattling breath echoed in their ears. 

The knights within the dome no longer vibrated with righteous indignation but instead shook with the dawning realization of how powerless they were against these sorceresses. They could try and die with dignity, but they would die at the hands of magic nevertheless. Beside them Merlin was coming to the conclusion that he wanted to avoid so very badly but could no longer ignore. 

"You did not need to kill him," Arthur finally spoke, cutting through the silence. 

"Sure I did, without you here most of them would've lived, but you _are_ here so why not cut out the middle men?" answered his sister. She walked around the dome as if surveying the knights inside and when her eyes caught Merlin's, hatred burned bright within her eyes. "I think I shall leave only you and Merlin alive," she said walking to stand in front of Merlin, "You will return to inform your father of the terrible defeat you suffered and at my command you will slaughter him when the time is right. Then Merlin will fulfill his own order ... to kill his beloved prince." 

Merlin's insides squirmed at the thought and he bit down on his tongue for fear of saying something stupid. As the years passed Merlin learned a great deal of things, two important ones being: Timing is everything so he shouldn't act on a whim, and that things can't always be clean cut as he wished. He would have to plan his and Arthur's exit at the right moment, and the knights around them might be collateral. He didn't think about it too much, but deep down he knew he would feel no guilt for the death of these knights, they had killed many of his own. 

"Then me and Morgause can take over, and I shall finally be the Queen of Camelot." Morgana walked to her sisters side and smiled warmly as if they weren't planning an invasion. 

"Don't spoil all of our plans, sister," joked Morgause yet her tone sounded dangerous. Merlin could see who the real ruler of their duo was. Morgana simply stopped talking and nodded as if it had been a mutual decision and not a borderline order. 

"Who do you think we shall do first?" asked Morgana. 

"The prince," Morgause spoke as if it were obvious, "then the servant. Afterward you can take your time with the knights, and I suggest you rethink your earlier promise of granting a painless death. They did not grant our kind a painless anything." 

"Excellent," agreed Morgana and looked at the prince like he was nothing more than a bug for her to squish. Morgause looked at Arthur too and her eyes turned gold, the prince's horse began to move toward the magical wall. 

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," spoke Merlin. The nervousness he had been feeling had drained out of his body at the look of helplessness on the prince's face. No matter what happened now, he would ensure Arthur was safe and then deal with the consequences. 

The sisters seemed to startle at the comment and everyone froze. A deranged laugh came from Morgana's mouth as she looked at Merlin, "and why would that be?" 

"Because I can't let you," he said freely. 

Now it was Arthur who was looking at Merlin and the angry glare in his eyes yelled at him to shut up and stop calling attention to himself but he ignored it, and the ache it sent through his chest. He watched as one of Morgause's blonde eyebrows rose and she began to pull the horse again. Arthur stood free of the dome on the other side now, but still bound by magic. 

"Release him," commanded Merlin, the surety in his voice shocked even him. 

"Merlin, please," tried Arthur but Merlin was having none of it. 

"Release him, or you die." 

Morgana's eyebrows knit together in anger at the servants audacity and with a sweep of her hand and a gargled word her eyes shone gold and Arthur was thrown to the ground. The grunt that left Arthur's mouth rang through Merlin's ears. There was no more time. 

Lifting a hand Merlin growled "Egwyl!" and his eyes turned a burning gold. The dome shattered like delicate glass all around them and Morgana screamed out in anger. From there it was all chaos. 

Arthur sat stunned upon the ground for a few seconds processing what he just saw Merlin do. His friend was a _sorcerer_ and he hadn't told him anything. Now as he looked around he realized he was not the only shocked one. The sister duo seemed to be enraged at the discovery growling out the strange yet familiar language that warped the universe to their desires. Fire balls were flying across the clearing and earthquakes shook the ground he sat upon. 

The knights themselves seemed to be less than pleased with the development as well. They should be thankful to be alive, but they were quite mad about their two dead friends which the sorcerer boy did nothing to save. But of course he hadn't, all sorcerers are fickle. They jumped off their horses and stayed low to the ground as the three magic users battled against one another. Crawling over to the prince they checked he was fine and promptly waited for a plan of action. He, however, seemed to be stunned into a paralysis as he stared at his servant hold up one pale hand and stop the flames with golden eyes. 

"We must kill them sire," spoke Kaen when the prince did not snap out of it immediately. The remaining knight agreed and held tightly to his sword as the earth shook once more and scorching fire balls fell all around them. 

"Yes," said Arthur and stood at once. 

Morgause was chanting something, the words guttural as she repeated them over and over with great concentration. Morgana's two hands were extended forward as she herself yelled words to the wind. A small tornado was forming in between the trees and as it grew she pushed it closer and closer to Merlin. It's force made Arthur wobble as he walked toward them. Merlin was holding his own, his voice drowned out by the wind tunnel roaring in between them all. His golden eyes met Arthur's and the prince's heart skipped a beat. Morgause finished her chant with one final utterance and the earth groaned beneath Merlin's feet. 

The warlock continued to concentrate on Morgana and only noticed his feet sinking into the dirt when his boots were sucked into the brown puddle. The earth swallowed him quickly and he found he could not yank his feet out from the ground. Now stuck, the two sisters began to attack him together. Merlin put up a shield and tried to hold back their joined magical attacks, this wasn't going overly well for him. Silently he thanked Arthur for forcing him to train with him as he held up his magical shield, it was different from holding up a real one, but he still felt the force of each hit and he needed endurance if he was going to get anyone home at all. 

Suddenly the load lessened and he saw Morgause was no longer helping Morgana but instead engaged in a sword fight with Arthur, better yet she seemed to be injured. He didn't know the spell for getting out of this make-shift quicksand that he was almost to his knees in, but he thought if Arthur could fight a powerful sorceress with a piece of steel he should at least give it a go. While maintaining his shield he bent down and touched the dirt. It was not _alive_ in the way people or animals were but it did have a life of its own. As it dragged him down deeper he could feel the dirt's discomfort at the altered state. In the end it wasn't very hard once he concentrated. With a gentle thought he commanded the dirt to return to it's natural state and it gladly did so. Underneath his feet he could feel the soil beginning to firm up and push him out. 

With a final grunt he yanked his left boot out and was finally free. He thanked the dirt for its help and turned his attention back to Morgana. She was a lot closer now and his shield was battered. 

"Traitor!" she yelled as she pounded against his defenses. "You have just as much magic as me, yet you protect those who kill us!" 

"I protect only Arthur, the future king of Albion!" 

His eyes flashed golden and she flew through the air; back slamming against a tree. To his right all the knights were fighting against Morgause and her magic, taking turns between sword fighting and being thrown around like rag dolls. He stalked forward until he was only a few paces from Morgana before she struggled to her feet. Even now there was a ferocity in her eyes. 

"He is king of nothing! I am the rightful queen!" She growled. 

"You are a selfish child," he spat finally letting his anger bubble over, "you're no different than Uther!" 

From behind them he heard a grunt and then the smooth - _shink_ \- of a sword being pulled out of a body. 

"Sister!" yelled Morgana. 

Morgause continued to fight but she wobbled now as a wound on her left side trickled blood. She was powerful, but her extravagant use of magic and sword fighting against three men was tiring her out. She was bleeding from her arm and sweat rolled down her face as she grunted through the ongoing fight. She would not stop fighting until her last breath, she believed in what they were doing. 

"This much death is not the way," Merlin said trying to reason with Morgana who stood paralyzed against the tree watching her sister. 

"You did this to her," whispered Morgana , "you all did this to her." She turned to him with crazed eyes and screamed, the action so sudden Merlin didn't comprehend he was being thrown until he was flailing in the wind. He slammed down to the ground hard on his side, the wind being knocked from him. From the ground he made eye contact with Arthur and the prince paused his ministrations against Morgause. The sorceress took the opportunity, like any good warrior would, and aimed her blade right at the prince's heart. Without a word Merlin's eyes grew gold and Morgause's sword grew unbearably hot. She growled and dropped the metal, which snapped Arthur out of it. With a swiftness developed with years of training he ran her through and she slumped around his blade until he pulled it out and she fell to the floor. 

"NO!" Morgana screamed and began to run toward Morgause before tripping and falling to her knees. 

Merlin could feel the magic of the forest tremble as Morgana's emotions grew and grew. She had never been as powerful as her sister, but she was powerful in her own right and not someone to be messed with. Especially when she became emotional. The knights ran toward her in their ignorance, in their eyes they had just eliminated one of the sorceresses and simply had to do the same with this one. Magic gathered in her core and her eyes began to fill with gold. 

Arthur looked over at Merlin who was scrambling up onto his knees. He watched as his servant outstretched his hand toward him and mouthed words he couldn't hear. He expected to be hit with magic he couldn't fight against but instead a blue dome appeared around Arthur, and therefore the knights. Arthur only had a moment to wonder if Merlin was trapping them too before Morgana was screaming a loud and piercing sound. 

Power seemed to explode from her and everything in her path was viciously beat upon with magic. Thick branches snapped off of trees as if they were no more than twigs and were sent flying away from her at high speeds. The grass tore itself out of the ground and whizzed through the air. From within the shield he could see Merlin being hit too. He struggled to keep his hand up as he was battered with Morgana's pained magic. His jacket whipped behind him furiously and his hair blew back. The shield buzzed around them loudly as branches and invisible waves of force bounced off. 

Morgana's hair flew around her face, the strands moving so much they almost looked like the heads of the snakes she'd planned on pushing into their necks. Finally her voice became raw and the gold in her eyes fizzled into nothing like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. She slumped forward onto all fours and gulped in the air around her. The forest surrounding them seemed like a storm had passed through and devastated the land. Trees were left without leaves and fat branches lay strewn in random patterns across the floor. Even some of the thinner trees lay on the dirt with their roots displayed. Morgana had never expended that much energy before and even her deep breaths couldn't keep her from passing out in exhaustion. 

As she lay motionless Arthur wondered if the reason she was so still was worse than simply being tired. The shield around them flickered out of existence and Merlin himself slumped over. The knights next to him hurried to run towards the two remaining sorcerers before them. In their weakened state, killing them shouldn't be too difficult. 

"You two check if she's alive, if she is you are not to kill her. You will only bind her hands and feet so she cannot run and put something in her mouth so she cannot cast spells." The knights slowed and turned to look at Arthur with surprise. 

"But sire," began Gedrif. 

"My father would want her alive," is all that Arthur had to say, and it was the truth. Morgana's betrayal had hit him hard and he had mixed feelings about her. Arthur did not know what his plans for Morgana were, if when they arrived he'd put her head upon the chopping block or ... forgive her? He almost wondered if killing her here was more a mercy than taking her back to her father but in the moment he couldn't decide. Uther was not the only one to have loved Morgana and he did not think he could bring himself to kill her, much less let some random knights do it for him. 

"And him?" asked Kaen nodding his head towards Merlin. 

"Leave him to me," Arthur answered in a hard voice and began walking before they could say anything more. 

Merlin was trying to stand but he swayed on his feet. He hadn't been hurt by Morgana's magical outburst, on the contrary she had almost gifted him power, but he was not used to this overload of magic within him. Sure Merlin was the most powerful warlock to walk the earth, but he was still just a human, and human vessels were not made strong enough to hold all that power. He had magic flowing through him constantly, but his true power came from being able to access the ancient magic of the earth. For this reason the world bent to his will. When he so chose to he would simply draw the infinite power into himself and redirected it how he needed, Morgana had dumped magic into him without asking and he felt drunk on it. 

He watched as an angry Arthur stalked toward him with a sword and without thinking took off running. He heard his name being yelled but he still clumsily ran away. As he ran he pushed the overflow of magic out of himself and tried to sober. He ran as fast as he could with no clear direction or reason. It was a little childish frankly the way he was fleeing from the inevitable but despite having had a magical show down with a priestess and saving the prince's life, he wasn't feeling very brave. Footsteps fell fast and heavy behind him and Arthur growled his name out again. He turned to look at the prince to check just how mad he was and immediately tripped. 

"Merlin you idiot!" hissed Arthur, "stop running!" 

Merlin looked up at the prince from his spot among the leaves and dirt as the prince clutched his knees and took deep breaths. Arthur had always been stronger than Merlin, but Merlin had always been faster than Arthur. 

"I'm sorry," croaked Merlin, "I don't know why I ran." 

This made Arthur's eyes snap to Merlin and suddenly his sword was aimed at Merlin's chest. A moment of stony silence passed between them before Arthur sheathed his sword and rubbed at his temples. 

"What the hell, _Mer_ lin," is what finally came out. 

Out of the many things Merlin had prepared for the prince to say to him, this phrase was not one of them. Hearing the prince curse was more rare than seeing him laugh so hard he snorted, and the word coming from his posh mouth almost made Merlin laugh. 

"No," said Arthur sternly, "don't laugh. I am _very_ upset with you." 

Merlin thought getting run through might hurt less than hearing Arthur admit that. He leaped up from the ground and tried to ignore the way Arthur flinched. "I wanted to tell you everyday." 

A flash of hurt passed over Arthur's face, "Then why didn't you?" 

"How could I?" Merlin sighed, "if I did it meant certain death." 

"I don't know what I would've done," admitted Arthur. 

"And I didn't want to put you in the position of choosing between your father and me." 

The crease between Arthur's brows smoothed over and he looked Merlin directly in his eyes letting his guard down, "Really? That's what worried you?" 

Merlin nodded, "I would never want to hurt you, Arthur. In any way." 

"Why?" asked Arthur and Merlin stiffened. 

He could tell Arthur about their destiny, but he didn't want Arthur to think this was all out of duty. He could tell Arthur it was because he was his best friend, but that wasn't quite the truth either. 

"I'm not going back, am I?" asked Merlin. 

Arthur swallowed heavily and then shook his head, "if you do, you'll die. The knights will make sure of it, they saw everything you did." 

A few months ago he would've rather died than separate from the prince but he didn't see another way out of this. At least from afar he could still protect his king, if he was executed he didn't think he'd be much good. If he was going to be forced away from Arthur he no longer saw the point in living a lie. Merlin sighed and let his shoulders drop. His eyes shutting as he let his walls come crumbling down. Arthur watched as long dark eyelashes fluttered over pale cheeks in a way that seemed to freeze time. 

"Why did you do it, Merlin?" he pushed again, needing to know why he could no longer have his best friend at his side. 

"I love you," came the soft whisper. It was spoken so gently and yet it snatched all of Arthur's breath away. Merlin's eyes opened slowly, revealing the dark blue of stormy seas. He walked forward to stand close to Arthur and looked at him with a gut wrenching mixture of adoration and resignation. 

"What?" Arthur whispered back just as quietly; more brokenly. Merlin raised his trembling hands and let the tips of his fingers skate softly over Arthur's jaw. They moved so carefully and reverently Arthur did not dare to speak and break whatever was happening. Long fingers cupped his jaw while one of Merlin's thumbs swiped sweetly over his lips. Arthur gasped at the overwhelmingly intimate gesture and stared into Merlin's eyes, which were singularly focused on tracing the motion of his finger over Arthur's mouth. Committing it to memory, as if it would be the last and only time he would have the chance. Merlin's eyes shot up to make contact with Arthur's and in them were so many words Merlin didn't dare speak even now. _I wish you could be mine._

"Merl-," Arthur tried but stopped when he realized he didn't know how to give Merlin the thing he desired. Never before had he considered Merlin felt anything toward him other than brotherly camaraderie and irritation from time to time, and he was at a complete loss at the revelation. 

"I hope you'll forgive me for this ... but I'd rather do this once and live with the consequences than regret my cowardice for the rest of my life." Arthur's heart pounded in his chest as Merlin leaned in with one very singular purpose. The second Merlin's lips connected with his he closed his eyes and exhaled. Arthur didn't know what to expect, but this soft press of lips against his was too much. Merlin's lips parted ever so slightly and shut against Arthur's, coaxing the prince further into all that was Merlin. Arthur rested his hands on Merlin's arms and held him steady. Held himself steady. He followed Merlin's lead and deepened the kiss gently. He'd never been kissed like that before; had never kissed anyone like that before. Merlin made a small sound in the back of his throat that made Arthur's heart ache in a strange way. Merlin's hands never left Arthur's face for a second, and they only seemed to tremble more as they kissed. The kiss was chaste, but held such deep devotion it left Arthur reeling when Merlin pulled away. They parted with a final drag of lips between lips and a quiet sound. 

Arthur's eyes shot open when his thoughts were finally able to come back to him like arrows zipping through the air and sticking into the target.

Merlin's eyes were glossy and as he spoke his voice sounded thick with emotion, "please don't be mad at me." He smiled a small private smile they often shared and Arthur couldn't help but keep gaping at the man in front of him. "It was the last act of a desperate man, you cannot condemn me for that." Merlin's smile held a whisper of the carefree boy he had met so long ago. 

"I would never condemn you for anything Merlin," he heard himself saying before he could think. Arthur dropped his arms back to his sides when he realized he was still holding onto his best friend. 

"How noble," Merlin teased lightly but sobered quickly, " _Thank you, Arthur_."

Arthur knew he was thanking him for this moment, for letting him be honest and open; for the kiss as if it were some mercy he granted Merlin. Arthur didn't feel he deserved that thanks at all. He felt especially undeserving when he opened his mouth and said, "you have to go." 

Merlin nodded but didn't speak or move. His heart was beating out of his chest after kissing Arthur. He had just revealed his two deepest darkest secrets, and he'd revealed them to the one person he'd most vehemently hidden them from. Arthur hadn't yelled and tried to kill him like he expected, he wasn't disgusted at his love. He didn't even pull away as Merlin kissed him. He had been quiet but allowed Merlin to express everything he needed to, which was more than Merlin could have hoped for.

Merlin gave Arthur a poor imitation of his usual smile and began to walk away. He didn't want to continue making Arthur uncomfortable after his friend had shown him such kindness, and he really did have to go. His confession of love had been incredibly bittersweet. He felt like he no longer had to hide; could heal now that his wounds had felt fresh air.

The kiss had been pushing it, but Merlin couldn't help himself. Once. Just once he needed to taste Arthur; to have even just a little of him. It had been selfish, and he felt guilty because of Gwen but he thought maybe she would understand. She too loved Arthur, she must know what it feels like to need him in every way. Besides, it hadn't meant anything to Arthur. The way Merlin saw it, it was like granting a dying man a small comfort. You could not save his life, but you could soften the blow of his death. Arthur had given Merlin a merciful death. 

He could not say if he was better off after telling the truth, but he could only hope it would help him escape the rut he had found himself in. He loved Arthur and he possessed magic. Arthur knew and didn't mind. Arthur still cared for him and remained his friend. The thought filled him with the energy he would be needing for the journey ahead and he finally took off running. He needed to put distance between himself and the mess he'd just made. 

Arthur watched Merlin's form disappear behind the trees and watched until he could no longer track his movements. 

\---------------------------------------------------

As he made his way back he thought of the story he would tell the knights. From a distance he could see two bodies lying on the ground and a groan left him as he realized it was his two knights. Morgana and Morgause were no where to be seen. He knelt next to Gedrif and felt for a pulse. There was none. Kaen however was alive and breathing. Arthur shook the knight until he awoke and tried to sit up abruptly. 

"It's me," soothed Arthur and the knight fell back onto the dirt. 

"Gedrif?" he asked. 

"Dead." 

Kaen closed his eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath. "The witch was alive," he said.

"What about Morgause?" 

Kaen supported himself on his elbows and turned his neck to where the sorceresses body had rested after the fight. Only a puddle of deep red remained. "I don't know, sire," he admitted, paling. 

"My servant is gone as well." 

Kaen's head snapped back to the prince then. "We must track him!" Kaen tried to stand up. 

"We must return and warn my father," Arthur corrected as he helped the older man up, "We're in no state to defeat him. We would only succeed in getting ourselves killed and leaving Camelot open to a possible attack they didn't know was coming." 

Kaen looked into the prince's eyes for several seconds as if reading him like a book. Arthur donned his best courtly mask, the one that even his father couldn't see through. Kaen sighed then nodded standing for himself now. "Yes, sire." 

Now they just had to find the horses, get back to Camelot, and defend her from impending doom. All without Merlin ... who loved him. 

Arthur had no idea what he was going to do.


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur spend their first day apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as much action but new developments about what they're each choosing to do.

Arthur rested in his four poster bed for the first time since everything went so wrong. As the stars twinkled his body and mind were exhausted, yet his heart was beating out of his chest. He took deep breaths and exhaled them slowly through his mouth, just the way Merlin had taught him, to try and calm down. He remembered the first time one of these fits overtook him when Merlin was here. 

Uther and Arthur had had an argument, as much of an argument as you can have with a king that is, and when the prince returned to his chambers his servant was there. A growled order should’ve seen to that the servant scurried out of the room for fear of being punished by the prince, but he hadn’t left at all. Arthur’s breathing was coming quickly and his heart was beating out of his chest, more than angry Arthur felt an unbearable sense of unease overcoming him. Everything was far too overwhelming and he didn’t know how to cope with it. 

Typically Arthur would’ve thrown things around and frightened all of the servants that passed by. Uther had done a perfectly good job at raising an emotionally stunted clot-pole, or at least that’s what Merlin had murmured as he gently laid his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. 

Instead of reprimanding him for acting up or being rude like he usually did when Arthur threw a tantrum he seemed to see right through the display. 

“Breathe,” he soothed, pushing Arthur to sit down in one of his chairs. 

“I am breathing!” Arthur had barked back. 

Merlin’s expression turned soft, so much softer than anything Arthur had ever seen directed at him. This time when Merlin ordered Arthur to breathe, he did. Together they took breaths in and out until Arthur felt his heart stop hammering against his ribs. He thought perhaps he should feel outraged that Merlin had coddled him in such a way, or angry at being instructed like a child. However, Arthur found he was not angry at all, just very thankful. At that point they’d only known each other for a few months but Merlin had the capability of knowing what he needed before he himself knew. 

“There’s no need to be anxious, sire,” Merlin had said evenly when Arthur had calmed down, “Your father will have to see reason soon enough.” 

“Are you saying I was right?” 

“I didn’t say all that, did I?” he asked turning to look at Arthur with a raised brow, “I won’t baby you just because you got all weepy on me, Arthur.” 

For a second there had been silence and then the two burst into laughter at Merlin’s comment. Thinking of it now made Arthur’s heart ache. His practiced breathing only growing shakier and shakier. He wished Merlin had taught him how to calm down when your heart was so heavy you felt you couldn’t breathe right. 

He closed his eyes and thought about the chaos that had ensued upon his return. By some miracle they had found a horse and Kaen and him rode together, occasionally Arthur got off and pulled the older knight along. They slept in the forest for a few hours but moved as soon as there was enough light to see where they were going. The knight was far worse off than him, in his older age, his injuries took a harsher toll. 

Crossing the gates of the kingdom had caused a ruckus as people looked upon the defeated form of the duo. Kaen tried to sit straight and maintain dignity, yet he still leaned to one side nursing his ribs. Both looked dirty and tired and not at all happy. Not to mention they left a party of six and only two returned. 

The guards set off to inform the king of his return, and of their state. A flurry of servants and maids had gathered around them as a stable boy led the horse away. Another capable young man helped Arthur take Kaen to Gaius, despite the knight’s protest. 

To say his father had been mightily displeased would’ve been an understatement, especially once Kaen showed up limping and spewing the horrifying story of the village, the witches, and the sneaking sorcerer among their own. Arthur waited for his father’s yelling to begin, _how could Arthur be so stupid as to not see his own servant was a magic user?_ , and he was not disappointed. Yet, when his father turned his fury upon Gaius the prince did not allow it. 

Arthur kept the details of Merlin’s escape vague but believable and Kaen did not speak against him. Only when he began to sway where he stood did his father seem to soften a fraction. He dismissed everyone and Arthur couldn’t get away from him fast enough. The meeting had been a private one due to the matters discussed, but Gaius and Leon were there and he couldn’t bare to answer their questions about Merlin just yet.

As he walked the sound of only one set of footsteps bounced in his ears and he ignored the burning in his eyes. George was in his chambers when he arrived, he would never know how the man knew to be there but he was and instead of a look of gloating or happiness to take his rightful position as Arthur would’ve thought, George looked sullen. 

“I’m sorry,” George whispered to Arthur as he was leaving after attending him for the day. He didn’t elaborate on why, he shouldn’t be sorry that a sorcerer was gone, but he knew what Merlin meant to Arthur. All good servants were observant. 

The prince did not answer, but he nodded and with that the man left for the night. Once alone Arthur had been overcome with all that happened and he knew from Merlin’s patient teaching that he was having a fit of anxiety and that he should breathe, and rest. He wondered if Merlin felt the same, if he even had anywhere to rest. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin had run for as long as he could with no direction other than _away_. When he finally stopped he had no clue where he was, but he found that he didn’t mind. He was a fugitive now, something he never thought he’d be. He had expected to suffer greatly, to think about all of the people that he wasn’t allowed to see, instead he felt liberated. 

“Perhaps I’ll become impossibly depressed tomorrow,” he mused out loud to the trees around him. The wind picked up and he nodded sagely as if it had said something wise. The stars in the night sky were glittering in the never ending expanse of the sky and Merlin allowed himself to pause in a gap of the canopy and admire them. If he really concentrated, he thought he could feel them. 

Deciding to spend the night underneath the stars he plopped down against a tree and summoned dry twigs and timber to himself. He knew he was alone, and quite frankly he couldn’t be bothered to hide his magic. He was an out-law now, he might as well have a little fun. 

“Forbearnan.” A fire sparked to life and burned steadily providing Merlin with warmth and protection. He thought of Arthur in the castle and wondered what he was doing, how things had gone with Uther. He hoped Arthur was fine. Soon he would need to figure out a plan for the future, but at the moment no matter what he thought of he found he couldn’t worry. For the first time in his life, his gut was telling him this was the right thing to happen. 

He pondered how being away from Arthur could be the right thing, they were “two sides of the same coin.” His magic swirled inside of him and a smile grew as the world around him responded in kind. He laid down with his back flat on the grass and stared up at the sky. He closed his eyes and sent a wordless thank you to the forest. 

Only a few days ago it had held him as he cried, now once again it sheltered him as he found himself lost. Different crickets sang to him now, and different leaves danced upon branches, but it was for him nonetheless. With his eyes closed the forest was like a symphony, nature working together to form the most beautiful song he’d ever heard. 

He thought of Morgana and Morgause and wondered if they were still alive. He thought of Aithusa and what he would need to do to raise him better. He hoped once more Arthur was alright. Merlin suddenly recalled Arthur’s mouth on his own and touched his lips tentatively. 

Everything happened so quickly there had been no time to think about it, but now alone he felt he had nothing but time. The kiss had been sweet, and Arthur had kissed him back. Merlin wondered why he had. He wondered why he wasn’t angrier that he hid his magic. He didn’t know the answer to any of the things he thought about, but he didn’t mind. 

As sure as the stars shined above him, and the ground held steady beneath him he knew he would do everything he could to fulfill the prophecy. Before it had seemed like a burden, and hiding his magic from Arthur was miserable. Now he was far from the prince, but felt closer than he’d ever been before, and with Arthur on his side there was no way Merlin would let him down. 

\------------------------------------------------

Arthur had woken up groggy and annoyed that Merlin had opened the curtains and let the sun wake him. 

“Merlin!” He chastised, tongue thick with sleep. 

“Sire,” replied a voice from his bedside. This voice however was high and even, not the usual low tones of Merlin that pulled him out of sleep. 

Just like that his day was ruined. Merlin was gone. Arthur turned onto his back and allowed himself to stare at the canopy for a few seconds. He sulked for a few moments then took a deep breath and sat up abruptly. _Merlin is safer this way._

“What will you have first, my lord?” George inquired as he tucked a white cloth into the neck of Arthur’s sleep tunic as if he were an infant. 

Arthur surveyed the table George had set up beside his bed, gobsmacked at the amount of food he had managed to fit. Once upon a time this may have pleased Arthur, he might’ve thought it was his right to be treated this way, but that was a time before Merlin. Now when he saw the table he realized how unfair it was that he would get all this while people were starving. He yanked the cloth from his tunic and hopped out of bed. He picked up an apple and a roll from the table and looked at George. 

“This is all I will require for breakfast, give the rest to the needy families in the lower town.” George opened his mouth in surprise but Arthur stopped him from speaking, “I’m going to be training, so when you come back meet me on the field.” 

George winced and he fidgeted in his place trying to find the right words to tell the prince that was not in fact what he would be doing. 

“Spit it out, George.” 

“Your father has ordered that as soon as you finish your breakfast you are to report to the council hall. He wishes to speak to you about … yesterday.” 

Arthur sighed but it wasn’t anything he hadn't been expecting. “Then help me dress, quickly,” he said a little snappishly. Instead of hearing the word prat the room stayed quiet and Arthur’s mood worsened even more. George was competent, but it still took longer than usual to get ready. By the time they finished Arthur’s cloak was whooshing behind the prince as he stomped out of the room and through the halls, everyone making way for him. As he made his way to the hall he was aware who he really needed to talk to was Gaius and find out exactly what had been going on, maybe even try and reassure the old man Merlin would be fine. 

The guards at each side of the entrance pushed the oak doors open and allowed Arthur to pass. His father stood at the head of a long table, leaning on his hands and staring harshly at some maps. Gaius, Leon, Kaen, and all the council members stood around the table as well. When he entered everyone turned to look at him with grim expressions. The doors slammed shut behind Arthur and a nervousness set in at the pit of his stomach. 

“We are going to review this step by step. Detail by detail.” Uther straightened and looked directly at Arthur. “Magic is attacking Camelot once more, in fact it has been hiding at the very heart of our kingdom,” he growled, “time to end this once and for all.” 

Arthur lifted his chin regally and transformed into the prince regent he was meant to be. He walked with confidence up to the other end of the table, opposite his father, and stared directly into Uther’s eyes. “Let’s start.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------

Leaves rustled as a mysterious figure moved through the forest. The only trace of the being’s existence being visions of dark cloth behind trees before they disappeared. Magic fizzled lowly, nothing more than a whisper in the fabric of the universe. 

_Emrys_

Birds fluttered as it passed their homes. 

_Emrys_

The figure rounded a fire that still blazed, the flames swaying as the movement caused wind. 

_Emrys_

A loud snore cut through the relative quiet of the forest. _Emrys_ came the sound once again, perhaps a little more exasperated. Merlin snored once more before turning abruptly and smacking his mouth. 

“Gods sakes,” the figure spoke, the voice gravelly yet warm. 

A foot wiggled against Merlin’s ribs and he awoke with a snort as he sat up. “Wha- huh,” he rambled standing up, “I’m awake! I’m going!” At the lack of a campsite or obnoxious prince waking him up Merlin grew incredibly confused before yesterday hit him like a falling tree branch. He spun around to see a little old woman. 

**Emrys**

Merlin jumped as the voice rang in his head. A smile appeared on the woman’s thin lips as she looked up at him. Great, she was a druid. Merlin hated when they talked directly into his head, it felt very intrusive. 

**Why do you sleep on the ground, Emrys?**

“Call me Merlin,” he replied out loud and eyed her with suspicion. 

She did not answer, only stared at him until he began to fidget, reminding him of Gaius. 

“No reason in particular,” he provided, “did you … did you need something?” he asked awkwardly. 

Much to his surprise the little old lady laughed, and it was a sweet homely sound. **Come, Emrys. It is you who is in need.**

He didn’t know why but he followed her. There was something in her face which was soft and trustworthy, her magic gentle. As they walked she remained quiet and moved with stealth no one her age should possess. He followed tripping on things and trying to make conversation only to receive one word answers directly into his mind. After a while he learned his lesson and appreciated the quiet with her. 

Suddenly a harmony of _Emrys_ was being spoken into his head and he knew they were surrounded by druids yet could see none. It always spooked him how they managed to be invisible without a spell. They blended in to the forest as if they were a part of it. He supposed in a way they were. 

A small child came out from behind a boulder to his left. She was petite and had wispy blonde curls with leaves stuck in them. She smiled a grand smile at him, one front tooth missing, and began to run right at him. 

**Emrys! Have you come to save us?** she asked, her sweet little voice floating in his mind. 

“Namier!” hissed a woman as she too stepped out from behind the boulder. Evidently she was the little girl’s mother and Merlin did not want her to get in trouble. He picked the little girl up, her giggle a wonderful cheerful sound, and smiled at the mother. 

“What a beautiful name,” he said to Namier, his voice sounding out of place in the quiet camp he knew he was in. 

Just like that the tension was broken and people started to come out of every possible hiding place. Some stared at him with awe, others with curiosity. Discomfort passed over him at being the center of attention but he refused to be rude to them, prophecy had ruled much of his life, how could he judge them for believing him to be some sort of miracle. 

**Welcome to our camp, Lord Emrys.** The old woman’s voice bounced in his mind and he looked down to her at his side. In her eyes was an undeniable cheekiness. 

**Call me Lord again and we’re dueling!** He answered, speaking into _her_ mind now. 

She laughed once more and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, he liked her already. He did indeed feel welcome here. Maybe this could be useful. 

\--------------------------------------------------

“And you never suspected his abilities before?” asked Uther in a controlled voice that was far scarier than screaming. 

“Never, father. He was adept at hiding them.” Arthur replied. 

The meeting had been going on for hours now, the old men shuffling on their feet as they reviewed everything from the day before. 

“So he destroyed the dome to run away?” Uther continued. 

“No, he shattered the dome Morgause had trapped us in to save us.” The glare Arthur received from his father at the phrase made everyone at the table fidget. Arthur, however, wouldn’t be cowed. 

“Don’t be a fool, boy!” Growled Uther. “He watched as multiple of the knights were killed and did nothing! He saved his own skin.” 

“He stopped Morgana from inserting the creature within my neck.” 

Uther paled at the mention of his daughter but regained his composure quickly, “Only because he was next. Only because he wanted your favor. You allowed him to exist within these castle walls, and never suspected him. He got into your head.” 

Arthur didn’t answer. Gaius stood stiffly at the table, he hadn’t uttered a single word without the kings prompting. His only contribution being a promise to search his books for clues as to what the creature was. 

“Did Morgause die?” Uther moved on to the next point. 

“She lost a lot of blood, sire,” Answered Kaen, “but when I regained consciousness she was gone. We don't know what happened, but prince Arthur wounded her severely. She shouldn't survive it.” 

“What about Morgana?” 

Kaen looked over to Arthur for a second before looking back at the king. “Prince Arthur indicated we should check if she was alive or not. If she was, we were to bound her so he could not perform magic and bring her back to you.” 

Uther sat without saying a word for several moments. His breathing was shaky and sweat appeared to bead at his temples. “She was alive I presume,” he spoke after several moments. 

“Yes, sire. Gedrif and I approached her believing her to be unconscious. When we got close enough she raised her hands and said something in the old language, we went flying, and I remember nothing after that.” 

“Where were you?” Uther asked, the question clearly for Arthur. Suddenly all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room as the tension rose between the two. An unspoken accusation in the air. Arthur should've been the one to tend to his sister. Why did he go chasing after a useless servant? Uther had noticed Arthur's attachment to the boy before, but he had never considered it much. Why should Uther concern himself with his sons idiot servant who tripped over his own feet? He felt foolish now, and Uther Pendragon did not like to be made a fool. 

“I was retrieving Merlin.” 

“Failing at capturing a sorcerer,” corrected the King. 

“We fought briefly. When I cut him, however, he threw me and then ran into the trees. I looked for him but found no tracks at all. Not even drops of blood.” 

“A spell?” Uther turned to Gaius. 

“Perhaps, sire,” Gaius answered noncommittally. 

“What concerns me is the dragon,” said Arthur, shifting the topic away from Merlin. It was the question that had been puzzling them all. Uther had assured everyone all dragons had been killed, yet two had appeared so far. “It decimated the village. Not one single person survived.” 

“Yes, we must prepare in the event it causes trouble,” Uther replied as if the death of all the villagers wasn't trouble. He also didn't acknowledge the fact he had been caught in a lie yet again. Arthur sighed at the reaction. This wasn't going to end anytime soon. He desperately wished he could turn to his side and look at Merlin, a silent conversation passing between the two and keeping the prince entertained during long meetings.

\--------------------------------------------------

The little old woman who's name turned out to be Adhara took Merlin around to meet every single member of the camp. As Merlin came to find out, her magic was much stronger than he had sensed earlier. He currently sat on a cushion inside of her tent, a much larger tent than he would’ve thought with a small cot sized bed lined with furs and a table with herbs and crystals. Merlin hadn’t spent a lot of time with the druids but he had assumed they lived a more simple lifestyle. 

“There are different tribes,” said the old woman as she poured him tea. It had taken a few times asking but she had finally agreed to speak out loud for him. 

“What?” Merlin lifted the clay cup and sniffed at the contents before taking a hesitant sip. It was delicious. 

“There are many different druidic tribes. I am the leader of this one, although there are many others who help me. I’m not as young as I once was.” She smiled and sipped some of her own tea. Despite being old she sat on a cushion of her own on the dirt floor with Merlin. 

“You don’t seem it,” he said giving her a pointed look, “the way you were making your way through the forest I thought I’d lose you.” 

She chuckled and shook her head, “Took me many years to be able to do that, although I must say I have never met anyone who made as much noise as you trekking through the forest.” 

“That’s what Arthur always says.” At the mention of the prince Merlin felt a little tug at his heart, the humor leaving him. 

“You miss him, Emrys?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, but no judgment. 

“I’m afraid I do,” he admitted, “I know that to you he must seem like his father, but I know him well, and I believe in the king he will become.” 

She remained quiet as she sipped her tea as if considering his words. “I don’t know much about him, but I know a lot about you Emrys. If you believe, then we believe.” 

Something akin to devotion edged her voice and it made Merlin equal parts uncomfortable and glad. All his life Merlin had been alone when it came to magic, first in the village, and then in Camelot. Gaius helped him learn, the dragon provided him with new spells, but it wasn’t quite camaraderie. Staring at Adhara he felt the urge to tell her everything that he needed; felt he could trust her. 

**Let yourself speak, Emrys.**

For the first time in his life he was thankful for this way of communication so he didn’t have to hear his words out loud.

 **Adhara, everyone here keeps calling me Lord and acting as if I am some sort of God. I do not wish to disappoint anyone, I am not any of those things. I’m just Merlin, and I know nothing of magic. I only know a handful of spells.**

**Yes, it’s quite pitiful** she agreed, only her crinkled eyes visible from behind her tea cup. 

“What?” he asked dumbly. Everyone so far had treated him as if he had already saved and united all of Albion. 

**I suppose it’s a good thing you ended up here, Emrys. You’ll need to learn a lot of things if you’re ever going to save any of us. Now tell me why you were in the forest.**

“Is that why you’re the leader around here, Adhara? You just bully your way around?” 

Adhara simply poured herself more tea and stared at him expectantly, like they had business to do. Merlin didn’t stand a chance against her. With a sigh he began his tale, telling her absolutely everything that had happened in the forest. He told her he was a dragon lord, about his guilt at leaving Aithusa. He told her about all the responsibility he wasn’t sure how to handle. He told about Morgause and Morgana. Adhara never judged him once, only listened steadily as if mapping the events in her mind. She was old, but very sharp. 

“Finish your tea,” she ordered surprising him, “We do in fact have a lot of work ahead of us. This is quite the mess you’ve made, Emrys, but nothing we can’t fix. You’re hardly the first man who was dealt a destiny and no instructions. Besides, I’d like to live to see the new kingdom and at this rate I’m not sure I’ll make it.” 

Merlin choked on the mouthful he had just taken and Adhara laughed. Emrys was peculiar indeed, but she could sense his magic and it was absolutely vast. It was impressive, but she hadn’t been kidding when she said they had work to do. You need more than strength to conquer evil. She’d have to contact a few of her friends to whip this boy into shape. As she stared at him she couldn’t help but feel a fondness for him already. All the prophecies painted him as a strong and capable man who knew the way and would lead them all to salvation, but at her age she knew better than to trust the prophecies blindly. The fates often tossed young men about with no direction, but this one with shaggy hair and big ears was hers to take care of. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

The meeting ended once Uther looked as white as a sheet. Arthur had never seen his father look like that before, typically he was a stone wall, but it seemed that each mention of his daughter wrenched a stone from the wall until it was crumbling. Dismissing them with little more than a word he stood from his chair and walked out shaking. The members looked at one another as if silently checking to see if anyone else was witness to what had just occurred. 

“Gaius,” Arthur called after the physician as he hobbled out of the room, the old man didn’t so much as pause as he made his way toward his tower. Arthur grit his teeth and walked at a respectable pace, not allowed to run after the man. By the time he got to the tower the rickety wooden door was closed tightly and no noise came from inside. 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._ Nothing. 

“Gaius, it’s me,” he said but still no answer. “ _Prince_ Arthur,” he tried again emphasizing the title. Finally the door creaked open just a bit and Arthur could hear Gaius walking away from the door. The prince walked in and closed the door securely behind him. He watched as the old man sat on his cot and looked at him with a blank stare. It was unsettling to see the man so quiet and immobile. 

“Did you know?” Arthur asks as he takes a seat at the workbench.

“Know what, sire?” returns the physician, something akin to anger in his voice. 

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “About Merlin having magic.” 

“Does it matter?” Gaius asked, “He’s gone. Maybe even dead.” 

“So you did know.” 

“He was born with it,” the old man said, deflating. 

“That’s impossible!” cried Arthur. 

“Everything about Merlin is impossible. My boy was special,” Gaius says, his voice breaking at the end. 

Arthur always knew how close they’d been. Merlin had never had a father, he knew that much, but in Camelot he had found something close with Gaius. The fact that Merlin was born with magic changed a few things in Arthur’s mind, he had always thought magic was something people did willingly. The thought of killing Merlin for something he couldn’t help made Arthur sick. 

“He’s gone yes,” conceded Arthur, “but not dead.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Arthur looked to the door then back at the old man who had seen him through his childhood. He remembers how good it felt to have Gaius’ affection, they’re not as close now, but he still views the man as family and if Merlin trusted him then so could he. “I didn’t hurt him. I told him to go, and so he did. I watched him run away, Gaius. He didn’t have so much as a scratch.” 

A choked sound came from Gaius and he could see the relief flood his face. His soft cheeks wobbled as he forced the tears back. The smile he flashed Arthur made him proud he had done what he’d done, and even gladder that he confided in the man. 

“Now, I’ve told you my secret. It’s your turn to spill some.” Arthur wanted to know about magic, and Gaius could help him there. Not only magic but Merlin in specific, it turned out there was still more to his best friend he didn’t know about. Besides, he needed to make up his mind about how mad he needed to be at Merlin. 

Gaius walked over to the bench and sat next to Arthur, a soft look in his eyes as he began talking about Merlin. He started with the day they met, the story ridiculous enough that it could only belong to Merlin. _Of course the idiot revealed his magic the first day he got here!_

“Merlin used his magic for you, mostly,” said Gaius looking at Arthur the way he used when Arthur was a little boy, “he protected you day in and day out.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Arthur in an almost whisper. 

“You were his destiny Arthur, the reason for his magic. After a while he saved your life so many times we stopped keeping count, you attract a lot of magical threats.” 

Then Gaius proceeded to divulge story after story of increasing danger and insanity. Oh, Arthur was going to be _so_ mad at Merlin when he saw him again!


	5. Learning to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still apart, Merlin and Arthur start to learn how to live day to day without each other. Now they're each on their own paths trying to find their way back to one another.

Gaius exited the King’s chambers, he closed the grand chamber door behind him and looked at Arthur with a grim expression. He eyed the two guards at either side of the door and cocked his full head of white hair toward the hall. The two men walked together to Gaius’s tower without speaking. Worry and guilt gnawed at the prince but he did his best to keep them at bay, for now he was not the person he should be concerned about. 

Arthur stepped in to the physician’s rooms and he heard Gaius close the door behind him before coming around to face him. “How is he?” 

“The King is … tired,” Gaius spoke trying to find the correct words, “I fear his mental state is what is causing his physical ailments.” 

“It’s about Morgana, isn’t it?” sighed Arthur. He let himself fall onto the stiff cot and rubbed at his eyes. 

Before he wouldn’t’ve let Gaius see him look even slightly defeated, but since Merlin had been gone the two had grown close. For over a fortnight Arthur had snuck down to Gaius’s rooms in the afternoon to learn about magic and talk about Merlin. He was reminded of when he was a child and he would spend endless hours in these rooms watching beakers bubble over and a younger Gaius do a million things at once. 

“It makes sense,” answered the old man, never one for sugar coating. In Gaius’s fatherly fashion he laid a warm hand on Arthur’s shoulder, “You’re not alone in this, Arthur.” 

The prince looked up to the old man, the name not being spoken but heard all the same. Arthur had never spent this much time away from Merlin, but it felt like his friend had been gone for a century. In a sudden fit of anger and longing he almost told Gaius that Merlin was gone, that Arthur really was alone, but looking into the his wrinkly kind eyes he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Will he get better?” Arthur piveted, ever the noble. 

“With rest, he should,” Gaius answered. When it came to changing the topic, or saying something that didn’t actually mean anything, Gaius had Arthur beat everytime. They both knew it wasn’t really an answer, but the prince didn’t push it. Fear flooded his belly with it’s cold grip when he thought about why the physician might be avoiding a definitive answer to the question. 

“Very well,” he said standing from the cot and patting Gaius’s hand that still rested on his shoulder, “I need to get going. I’ll be accompanying the knights on patrol.” 

“Careful, sire,” came the reply as the hand fell away. 

“Always.” Arthur turned stiffly and walked out of the room. 

Arthur was looking forward to the fresh air of the forest, besides now more than ever he needed to interact with his knights. Merlin was gone, and it had had an impact he hadn’t seen coming. It might’ve been selfish but he hadn’t really thought about how the knights would react to the news. He wasn’t sure he’d fully processed it himself. 

The first time he went to train with the knights after the fiasco of his father going berserk about planning for every possibility, things had not gone as Arthur anticipated. As soon as he stepped onto the field there was a tense energy between him and the knights. It was almost as if they were mad at him, but no one spoke out of line or challenged him. That is, no one besides Gwaine. 

As soon as the knight laid eyes on Arthur things went downhill. Gwaine felt repaying Merlin his kindness of saving their lives over and over with an injury and then being chased into the woods was in very poor taste, and he made it very known. With a cheery smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he lunged at the prince and he did not go easy. Things ended with Gwaine in a choke hold and Arthur in a very bad mood. 

The very next day Arthur had taken the knights of the roundtable on a convenient patrol, which provided them with privacy, and revealed what had really happened in the woods … except for the part with the kiss. He was strangely possessive over that part. It didn’t seem to matter much however, the knights had plenty of questions to fill the time. That had been a very long patrol indeed. 

Now as they rode things were not nearly as tense, but Arthur was working on keeping the team together. He had the feeling Gwaine would up and leave any day, mostly because he said he would. He wanted to find Merlin and make sure he was alright.

“He’s fine.” Arthur didn’t bother looking back but he knew Gwaine was getting worked up again. 

“He could be anywhere!” protested the knight, “he might need our help! What if he runs into bandits?” 

“Then the bandits should run,” responded Arthur with a bitterness that surprised him. 

Coming to know all about Merlin’s magical escapades had opened up a lot of new feelings in him. On one side he was in awe, he wanted to see Merlin when he was conquering beasts and slaying evil sorcerers. On the other, he was incredibly angry. Sure, he had been under the threat of death, but how could he ever really believe Arthur would’ve hurt him! He thought he had made it clear Merlin meant a great deal to him … perhaps he hadn’t. Perhaps it really was his fault Merlin couldn’t tell him. 

“He’s that powerful, is he?” asked Percival with a bit of wonder in his voice. Percival had seen many lands before he came to Camelot so his questions about Merlin tended to lack the apprehension most had.

Arthur grunted in response.

“That sly dog,” chuckled Gwaine. 

Suddenly a realization came to Arthur. Leon had shown surprise, even some discomfort at the knowledge that Merlin possessed magic, but it was clear he believed in Merlin nonetheless. Gwaine had taken it as if it made all the sense in the world. Percival with a quiet acceptance and a little curiosity. Elyan with shock, not so much because of the magic, but more because it was Merlin who possessed it. All had their own reaction … except Lancelot. He had remained quiet, listening carefully to what everyone had to say, interjecting when appropriate, but his own opinion never appeared. 

“And you Lancelot?” asked Arthur. 

“Sire?” 

“What do you think of Merlin having magic?” 

“I think … that regardless of what abilities Merlin might possess he is still the good man we all know him to be.” 

Lancelot was very noble, he always knew just what to say … that irritated Arthur to no end sometimes. “You knew didn’t you?” he asked outright. 

“What!?” came Gwaine’s loud exclamation. 

The knight remained quiet for a few moments, but that was all it took for the truth to become apparent. The group broke into varied responses, shock for Elyan and Percival, outrage from Gwaine, disbelief from Leon. They barreled Lancelot with questions. Arthur did not speak. 

“I swore to him his secret was safe with me. That his _life_ was safe with me,” said Lancelot directed at Arthur’s back. The prince did not respond. 

“He didn’t tell me willingly,” added the knight, and the blood in Arthur’s veins seemed to unfreeze. 

“How did you know?” he asked quietly. 

“When Gwen was kidnapped. He used it when we were getting away from the Wilddeoren.” 

This caused the knights to go into an uproar again. Arthur spurred his horse on a little faster and didn’t join in. Lancelot watched as the prince rode with a stiff back and a million thoughts in his head. He had promised Merlin he wouldn’t reveal his secret to anyone, and he would never regret that, but he felt puzzled seeing the prince so affected. Why did it matter if Lancelot knew first? 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

The bowl of water rippled, but nothing happened. 

**Again** came Adhara’s voice. 

“It doesn’t work. I can’t do it!” whined Merlin. 

Adhara watched him with a raised brow. For being the all powerful Emrys, Merlin could really be a child sometimes. **Focus, Emrys**

“My names Merlin.” 

“Yes, but we want you to be Emrys right now, because Merlin is terrible at everything.” 

“Oi! Cheeky old woman,” he said smiling at Adhara. 

“You can’t charm your way out of this, Merlin. No matter how hard you try. Now, if you want to be able to see Arthur wherever he is, you’re going to have to learn to scry. How have you gotten this far without killing you both?”

“Typically I just panic until the magic comes to me,” he joked. Sort of. 

“Merlin,” she used his name knowing it made him listen, “you are not a seer, but you do not need to be. You have enough power to perform the spell, all you need now is to _focus_ your magic.” 

Merlin sighed and nodded. As it turned out, it was frustrating to learn new things. Apparently he was currently like an untamed stallion, at least according to Adhara. He had tremendous strength, but no finesse, and he had been trampling the obstacles in his path when he simply could’ve maneuvered around them. 

Turning back to the bowl he let his magic flow inside of him. _Gewitte me yst_ the words roll off his tongue. The water remains clear, but a small current runs through the liquid. 

**Don’t stop.**

_Gewitte me yst. Ætíe mé Arthur Pendragon_

The water rippled more until the center began to turn green. Merlin tried to control his breathing and stay focused as he watched the forest begin to appear before his eyes. The rippling slowed until only a clear image of the prince remained. He was on patrol with the knights, all of them rowdy as usual. Lancelot said something Merlin couldn’t hear and all of the knights began to bicker over one another. Arthur did not join in. 

He was among them, but he didn’t joke with them. He wondered what they were talking about, maybe it was boring Arthur. He stared closely at the prince, at the tan skin and golden hair. He was beautiful, but something was off. Under his eyes was the evidence of sleepless nights and the grin he gifted so often to Merlin was nowhere to be seen. What was keeping the prince up at night, was he alright? 

He began to get off track, his thoughts straying from the image in front of him. The image started to dissipate, Arthur’s face being the first thing to go. A lump grew in his throat as the prince faded away. These past weeks he’d been of the mind that he was learning and that this would help keep Arthur safe. However, seeing Arthur sullen made Merlin want to run back to him. What use was he so far away scrying him shakily in a bowl of water? 

**You did well**

“I lost the image.” 

“You got emotional.” 

“Why can’t you be less observant?” asked Merlin, turning to look at Adhara with shining eyes. 

“Because there would be no one to push you.” Adhara walked closer and looked into the bowl as if it were more than just water. “You’ve never had to learn before, not like this anyway. It can be slow, but important. If you feel you cannot do it for yourself do it for your prince.” 

Adhara was a clever old woman, she knew just the right buttons to push. The time they had known each other Merlin had spent babbling about the prince. She wondered if destiny planned for Emrys to love the once and future King this way, or if it was just a nice surprise. 

“How does scrying help Arthur? All it does is allow me the honor of watching him suffer.” 

**Of course, how can being able to see the prince when you cannot be near him be useful? When would you use such a thing? How foolish of me.**

“Stop speaking so much reason, Adhara,” chided Merlin. 

Merlin was much younger than her, but he spoke to her as if they’d been best of friends for eighty years. It was a familiarity she did not allow everyone, from someone else it may have even been disrespectful, but not from him. He was Emrys, more than just the human vessel he was in. He was magic incarnate, therefore he was infinite. In a way he was younger, and in another he was much older. Either way, she didn’t mind this new relationship that was being formed. He might be stubborn, but he was also willing to take direction when it mattered. 

“Is there a way I can hear what’s being said and not just see?” 

“There is. There’s also a way you can speak to one another.” 

“And how might I go about doing that?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could, which wasn’t very.

**You will earn those spells only when you have perfected your scrying. Use it as an incentive if you must.**

“Cruel but efficient,” conceded Merlin and turned back to the bowl, all earlier emotion forgotten.

Good, Adhara could work with this. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur sat at his desk trying to concentrate on the reports in front of him. The black ink letters swam around on the parchment and his eyes couldn’t focus. How was he expected to read reports with everything that was going on? He should be looking for Morgana and Morgause! Following every lead possible. Instead he was stuck behind his desk doing inconsequential work. 

His father seemed to be reluctant to sniff out his daughter. Since that day in the forest there hadn’t been so much as a peep from her or Morgause … or Merlin. Arthur almost suspected Uther didn’t want to find her, that he couldn’t face it. He didn’t know that for a fact however, but what he did know was his father was keeping him away from the matter as much as possible. 

Uther still hadn’t forgiven him for not seeing his personal servant was a magic user, and then for letting him escape. He seemed to think Arthur was incompetent. Even on bed rest and deteriorating by the day he refused to allow Arthur to make plans of his own. That was another thing that worried him. His father wasn’t giving him any responsibility, but he thought perhaps soon he may have more responsibility than he could bare. 

Arthur got up from his chair, the wooden legs scraping obnoxiously against the floor. 

“Where are we going, sire?” asked George from behind him. 

The prince most certainly did not _jump_ , no he didn’t. It was more of a deadly … reflexive maneuver which involv- alright, fine, Arthur jumped at the voice. Sometimes George was so quiet that he faded into the background completely until Arthur forgot he was there. 

“ _I’m_ going for a walk,” he said, regaining his composure in the same second he lost it. 

“Would you like a light cloak, sire? The weather has changed since you last were outside, your tunic will be too thin.” The servant didn’t wait for the Prince to answer, royalty often didn’t know what they needed, not better than him at least. 

George opened the wardrobe searching through the cloaks for one that would suit the prince’s outfit. Merlin might’ve been a mess, but when it came to the prince’s clothes he actually had a pretty good system of organization. This is why George was so shocked to find a rough blue cloak with the others. The quality was far below that of the prince’s other clothes, George couldn’t really think of any occasion in which the cloak would be suitable for the prince to wear. From behind him he heard a soft gasp and turned to find the prince staring at the cloak, his blue eyes wide and far away. 

He was about to apologize for the mix-up when he really focused on the look on the prince’s face. It was not one of confusion or anger that George had somehow gotten a cloak which belonged to someone else within his clothes. It was a look of recognition, of almost longing. 

“This one would be suitable for your purposes, sire,” he found himself saying. 

Arthur nodded, still staring at the cloak. It was Merlin’s, the one he had given to Arthur so long ago to sneak around. He had never given it back, and his friend had never asked for it. George, however, did not know this and so he simply slipped it over Arthur’s shoulders and tied it in place. 

It was too simple. They both knew it, but neither of them pointed it out. As the prince gave George a small smile and began to walk away, the servant got the sense he had finally done something right. Perhaps he was starting to figure out how to serve the prince after all. 

Even when he was walking aimlessly, Arthur made it a point to look like he knew exactly where he was going. He was the prince, so theoretically he could do whatever he wanted, except that he really couldn’t. His entire life was dictated by the way that others saw him, so he couldn’t actually let it be known that he wasn’t doing anything at all. 

A face popped into his mind then. It was a soft round one with caramel skin and earthy eyes. Curls cascaded messily around rosy cheeks and a warm comforting smile pulled him in. He ached to see Guinevere. He hadn’t been around her for sometime with all that had been happening, and since she no longer worked for Morgana their paths crossed a lot less organically. He changed directions now, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. 

He pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and walked with his gaze fixed on the ground. In the crowded lower town no one noticed him, everyone too busy with their day to day lives to search for their prince in a shabby blue cloak. He knocked on the wooden door to Guinevere’s home and waited for a few second before her voice rang out from inside. The door swung open and her eyes widened in shock at seeing the prince at her door in broad daylight. 

“Oh uh, sire, come in.” 

“Thank you, Guinevere,” he said stepping in to the humble house. Everything looked the same, but as the door closed the sense of familiarity he had developed with the home seemed to be gone.

“Sit down, Arthur.” 

He walked to her table and sat down, the hood of the cloak sliding off his silky hair. He wasn’t exactly sure why he came, he didn’t know what he wanted to say. 

“Are you alright?” asked Gwen as she sat down next to him, taking one of his hands into hers. 

_Ah, yes. That’s why he came._

“I am. Are you?” 

“I miss him, I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.” She didn’t need to specify who she was talking about, they both knew.

The prince didn’t know quite how things would work out, but he certainly didn’t plan on never seeing Merlin again. The thought was absolutely terrible, one Arthur hadn’t really allowed himself to consider, and it must’ve shown on his face.

“You miss him too.” Gwen’s hands were callused in the way all the peasants hands were, Arthur thought the soft scrape of her thumb rubbing over his knuckles was incredibly comforting.

“I’ve missed _you_ ,” he said instead of thinking about Merlin. It was true, he hadn’t realized, but now they were together he realized there had been a gaping hole in his life for a while now and he could feel how much he’d needed her by his side. 

“You’ve been busy,” she replied bringing his hand up to caress her cheek, she held it there with her own. 

Arthur smiled at her gesture. Her face was soft and warm, almost as warm as her palm against his hand. He leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss that caught them both off guard. He didn’t know what had driven him to do such a thing, but he didn’t question it as she leaned in to it and kissed back. Gwen’s lips were plump and soft and the kiss was shy in the way it had been at the start of their relationship. 

As he pulled away he couldn’t help but think of a different set of lips that had kissed him not too long ago, but it was only for a second and then his eyes were opening and landing in hers and he returned to the real world. She smiled at him happily, if not a little tightly.

“Are you upset that I fought with Merlin?” asked Arthur into their little bubble. 

Gwen’s smiled softly at him again, “I know you didn’t attack him, and he didn’t attack you, but I must say it makes me happy to know you’re willing to risk making us angry with you to keep him safe.” 

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t, “What do you mean you know?” 

“Don’t worry, no one else knows,” she mended quickly trying to soothe his anxiety, “Lancelot told me.” 

“Lancelot told you,” Arthur repeated dumbly. 

“Yes,” she said leaning back and away from him just the smallest fraction. It could be nothing, but to Arthur who was raised in court to read body language like an open book it meant everything. “He was here earlier today, helping me fix some things in the house.” 

“And he told you about Merlin,” the prince repeated for the second time. 

“He did,” she said a little hesitant now. 

It seemed Lancelot was doing a lot of things before Arthur these days. He was all chummy with Merlin and his magic far before Arthur knew, and now he was sniffing around Gwen and spilling the details of things he’d said in confidence to the knights. No matter that Gwen would find out eventually since she was part of their group and arguably Merlin’s best friend, _Arthur_ should’ve been the one that told her. 

“I have to go,” said Arthur as he stood and let go of Gwen’s hand. 

“So soon?” she asked nervously. 

“I’m sorry, Guinevere, I really can’t stay any longer.” He leaned in and pecked her on the lips, it was a dry gesture, but he hoped it would count for something. He left her standing in the center of her house wringing her hands. 

Perhaps she should’ve been angry that he ran out on her, or saddened that he was leaving, but she couldn’t focus on either of those emotions. Instead she was much more worried about the fact that Arthur was jealous. Arthur was a possessive man and so it wouldn’t be out of the question he may be jealous of her being around other men, as barbaric as it was she accepted him flaws and all and on more than one occasion she had enjoyed the feeling. 

On this occasion however, she did not, because she wasn’t sure he didn’t have anything to be jealous over. Lancelot had in fact been over to help fix some things in her home … just like he’d been over the day before after helping her carry the goods she’d bought in the market, or the day before that when they’d taken a walk in the gardens. 

It wasn’t like they were doing anything bad, but she thought maybe it wasn’t particularly good either. She hoped Arthur couldn’t tell why she was so nervous. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin watched as Arthur made his way through the empty corridors of the castle. Instead of his rich red cloak fluttering off his shoulders an old blue one was in its place. It wasn’t hard to recognize the cloak as his own, he had seen the prince leaving Gwen’s home with it and sneaking through the crowd with the hood pulled over his noble face. It filled him with a strange nostalgia to see Arthur wrapped up in his clothes. _At least my cloak is still of some use to him_ mused Merlin to himself as Arthur arrived at his chambers and went inside. 

Adhara was in her own tent now handling matters of the camp, she had informed him of this and promptly shooed him out with an order for him to continue practicing his scrying. He wasn’t sure he believed her excuse for making him leave, but he didn’t mind the privacy he had in his own tent. It was not nearly as lush as Adhara’s, but then again he wasn’t a camp elder. Besides, Merlin had lived his entire life sleeping on the floor and stiff cots, a good-sized tent of his own was a great honor. 

He sat on his bed roll which was fluffy and soft, courtesy of several druids gifting him furs and brightly colored cloth. He thought druids didn’t hunt animals, apparently some tribes did, albeit in a much more conservative and humane way than they did in Camelot. The animals were spelled into sleep and then killed swiftly, then every single part was put to some sort of use, none of it going to waste like it so often did in the castle. 

On the dirt floor was the bowl of water and even though evening was approaching and he had no source of light in his tent, he did not struggle to see Arthur for the image itself seemed to produce light. The candles on his chamber walls lit up the water as Arthur walked past them and Merlin watched with rapt attention as the prince moved about.

Arthur pulled the knot loose at the base of his neck and swung the cloak off of his shoulders throwing it on to his bed. Merlin felt slightly sorry for whoever was looking after Arthur and his sloppy ways, but he was mostly glad he wasn’t the one doing the washing at the moment. With a sigh Arthur reached toward the nape of his neck with both hands and clutched his tunic yanking it off in a brutish manner which Merlin had always found quite enticing. 

The expanse of the prince’s back looked soft and inviting and Merlin’s finger tingled with the ache to run them over Arthur’s skin. He felt his face heat up as he watched Arthur walk around. It was nothing he hadn’t seen a million times before, but he had never sat and watched so shamelessly before. In a way it felt wrong to see Arthur like this, without him knowing. 

The prince walked to his wardrobe and opened it to search for another tunic, a sight Merlin had never seen before. When he had served Arthur he had been useless in just about every way, not once had the prat attempted to dress himself. A large hand came up to run through shining blond hair with exasperation. _Alright, so still useless._ The thought was mildly comforting, at least not everything had changed. 

George walked in the picture then, a sight that didn’t please Merlin too much. It was only logical Arthur would be assigned a new manservant but he still hated it. That was _his_ job. Gods, how times had changed, he never thought one day he’d want to fight to be the prince’s servant. 

Words that Merlin still hadn’t learned to hear were exchanged between the two and with a nod George set out to find Arthur the clothes he wanted. As he searched through the wardrobe for something the prince rounded to his bed and picked up the cloak, in a sly maneuver that was wholly confusing to Merlin he walked behind the changing screen with it and came back out without it as if nothing had happened. Just in time George turned back around holding a sleep tunic in his hands and a smile filled with success. 

“What is that clot-pole up to?” Merlin asked himself out loud. _Why did he hide the cloak? And was he preparing for bed already? He hadn’t even had dinner yet!_

Sometimes when a day had been extra hard Arthur would skip the meal and turn in early, Merlin had certainly had that happen enough times at the beginning of his service to the prince but as he worked for him longer he learned to fight him on it. The prince needed to eat and if he wouldn’t take care of himself, then his servant would have to step up and ensure he was eating. 

**Emrys?** came an unknown voice from outside of the tent, except it was directly into his head. What was the point of staying outside if they were just going to probe about his brain? Surely one of those is far more intrusive than the other. 

“Yes?” he answered out loud quickly making the image in the bowl disappear. He hadn’t been doing anything bad but he felt his face heat up anyway as he tried to rid any evidence of watching the prince in his tent. 

**Adhara wishes to invite my lord to dine in her tent if he wishes.**

Warmth filled his chest at the invitation. “Of course, I’ll be right there.” 

Footsteps indicated the druids departure and he ducked out of his tent. He missed his makeshift family in Camelot, but in a way he was finding a new one here. Adhara was as much of a mentor to him as Gaius, he thought they would get along well. 

\--------------------------------------------------

“That’ll be all, George,” said Arthur as he came around the screen dressed in the sleep clothes George had picked out. He didn’t need help to put on a simple tunic and breeches, he had always let Merlin do it because … well he didn’t quite know why, but he found the same willingness wasn’t there when it came to George. 

His servant had just finished turning down his bed and he looked at Arthur with a look he hadn’t seen from George before. It wasn’t quite defiance, but it certainly wasn’t unquestioning subservience, which coming from George was like yelling at the prince for being such a mopey mess. 

“I simply have a lot of things to take care of tomorrow,” he said heading for his bed. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to George, yet here he was. 

“Of course, sire. Rest well.” The servant walked out without looking back. He didn’t buy the excuse, he knew exactly why Arthur was so sad, even if the prince didn’t quite know himself. 

Arthur’s shoulders slumped and he waited a few moments to ensure that George wouldn’t be returning. Without thinking he walked behind the changing screen and retrieved the cloak. He decidedly did not dwell on his actions as he got into bed and held the cloak close underneath his covers. 

Uther had always taught him he was supposed to be stoic and strong in the face of adversity, but for a while now he had begun to doubt Uther’s teachings. A much wiser man had taught him that men have emotions just like everyone else, and that you can’t solve your problems by ignoring them and trying to bare them alone. Merlin wasn’t here, but his cloak was, and the idea was comforting. 

He refused to let himself feel shame as he hugged the rough fabric to his chest. His father was slipping away, and the only person in the entire world who he trusted was gone. If Merlin were really here he didn’t think he would dare ask for a hug, then again if Merlin were here he wouldn’t be as distressed. Although, hugging Merlin would be nice. 

The other man had a way of calming the prince, of making him feel whole and serene. He felt that gaping hole within him, empty once more, and he realized it wasn’t Guinevere he had been missing. Thoughts of the kiss came fluttering back into his mind. Merlin’s mouth was so soft, and so hot. His large hands had cradled Arthur’s face as if he were something precious. He found he wanted to feel that way again. Precious, and warm, and with Merlin. 

The thought frightened him and he quickly pushed the idea out of his head. Instead he pulled Guinevere and the kiss they'd shared earlier to his mind, trying to focus on the way she made him feel. Yes, _Guinevere_ , that was who he longed for. Yet even as he said these things to himself his heart fluttered in a treacherous way. With that kiss a whole new door had been opened to Arthur and his heart yearned to step through it. _No_ , Arthur reprimanded himself. He was just missing Merlin. It was perfectly reasonable, they'd been best friends for years and years and then suddenly one day they had been yanked apart. The person he spent almost all day, every day with, was bound to leave a bit of an empty spot in his life, but he was just confused. He was confusing his deep care for Merlin for something else entirely. 

It had been a long few weeks, new hardships popping up left and right, and so he wished Merlin was there. That was all. Sleep began to overtake his tired frame and as consciousness slipped him he let himself relax for the first time in days. It didn't take long for the prince to fall asleep. Soon he was snuffling in his sleep, and if he later realized he twined his fingers in the cloak and buried his face into it, then it must've been because he got cold as some point during the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit slow but necessary I think. The next one begins to pick up and get deeper into the story. I've also already started it so it shouldn't take as long. Alsooo ... would y'all get mad if this was a little longer than eight chapters? Bc I have a feeling it might be.


	6. Repair and Disrepair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our characters see many changes that shape the future of Albion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this new chapter kinda trash? Yes. However, did I work hard to create this trash? Yes. 
> 
> Enjoy your dumpster dive!

A crow swooshed down from the gray sky with its sleek black feathers cutting through the wind. Its wings fluttered as it maneuvered its way through the branches of a gnarled and bare tree. With weightless grace it landed on a gray stone window sill. The wind picked up once more and its feathers were ruffled from their pristine arrangement. In its sturdy black beak a few sprigs of goldenrod were held carefully. It flapped its wings and flew in through the window, now landing on a primitive wood table. 

The room was lit by the waning light outside and a few candles, the golden light of the flames bouncing off the stone walls. The crow dropped the sprigs onto the table and cawed loudly, begging for the attention of its master. In the corner of the square room sat a regally sized bed, but the covers upon it were ragged and old. In it lay a woman, her hair golden and curled. Small hairs stuck to her fevered forehead and she shook as if she were cold despite the hot temperature of her body. The crow hopped around on the table and cawed again. 

"Morgana!" called the woman huskily, "Shut that thing up!" 

Sharp black eyes stared at the woman on the bed. The crow did not know much, only that he should stay away from her. Ever since he started bringing the things that were requested of him the woman had been here, at first she did not move, but after many sunsets she finally began to speak. Her tone was always sharp and angry, unlike the tone of his master. 

"Keep calm, Morgause, I'm coming." 

"Not fast enough." 

Morgana walked into the room, her dress as ragged and dirty as the blankets on the bed. She was still beautiful, but the days of luxury and time to primp had been long gone from her life. She approached the crow and it hopped once before cocking its head toward the goldenrod sprigs. Her lips curled into a fond smile and she extended her slender hands for the bird to hop on to. With little trouble the bird perched on her arm and she carried it to the window. A tendril of her magic washed over the crow, a calm and grateful feeling. "You've done beautifully, thank you." The crow cawed one last time and then fluttered out of the window and into the dark sky. 

The fortress Morgause and Morgana had been hiding in was well hidden and long forgotten, and if that wasn't enough it was also heavily spelled. Anyone who walked close to it would simply miss it. For a long time now it had been their home, and although they planned to leave it behind when they last attempted to conquer Camelot she was glad it was still here after that day in the forest. Arthur Pendragon had almost killed her beloved sister, and she would make him pay for it dearly, along with Merlin the traitor. 

The priestess walked over to the table and grabbed her mortar and pestle. She'd been waiting on the crow to bring her the goldenrod, and now that she had it there was no reason to delay any longer. She dropped several candula flowers into the mortar, with the pestle she began to grind the vibrant flowers and a sharp smell rose from the bowl. She reached for the goldenrod and dropped it in, making sure to grind even the stem. She began to chant over the bowl as she worked, just as Morgause had taught her. The gold of magic appeared in her eyes and healing magic was being poured in to the mix. Bringing the bowl with her she walked to her sister who sat breathing heavily in the bed, her brows furrowed in pain. 

Morgana sat next to Morgause and the bed creaked. "You'll soon feel better sister."

Morgause did not speak but simply stared at her sister as she worked. The blankets and tunic were yanked back, and bandages were removed with care. A nasty wound revealed itself then, Morgana's blood boiled at the sight. That first day had been terrifying as she rode on Aithusa through the sky, clutching a bleeding Morgause to her chest. Her dragon had struggled with their weight, but persevered at her desperate commands for it to fly faster. Morgause had barely regained consciousness when she started to direct Morgana on what to do to save her life. It had been a frenzy of spells and enchantments that drained the two women thoroughly. For days after their panicked attempts to save her it seemed like she wasn't going to make it, but then one night her fever rose and rose until she was talking nonsense, and then it broke. Cold sweat dripped down her face and soaked the bed, and Morgana had never been so happy. 

The wound which she attended to so carefully now was an angry red puncture. They'd repaired Morgause's insides together as best as they could, thankfully most of the damage dealt was the loss of blood. Everyday they preformed healing magic to heal the wound faster, and it was working, for otherwise she would certainly be dead but Morgause was never one to sit and look at the bright side. 

"We're losing time," she growled as Morgana smeared the strong smelling remedy around the edges and as softly as she could over the wound itself. Morgause squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath at the burning sensation. She was not one to succumb to pain easily, and she sure as hell wouldn't do it now. 

"On the contrary, sister, circumstances have never lined up so perfectly before." 

As the herbs began to work alongside the magic the forever burning of the wound seemed to ease the slightest and Morgause relaxed. Now she turned to look at Morgana, her sour mood dampened slightly as the remedy did its job.

“How so?” Morgause inquired as she stared at Morgana skeptically. 

“Our plans have always failed because of one thing and one thing only: Merlin. I've divined his separation from Arthur, the prince is now without protection. Uther himself has ordered Merlin be killed if he ever sets a foot in Camelot again. Not only is the kingdom without protection, but I have seen Uther as well, he is growing weaker each day. Camelot has never been more vulnerable."

Morgause sat a little straighter now, a glint coming into her eyes, "The people must be losing faith in their all powerful ruler.” 

“Indeed. Knowing a sorcerer weaseled their way into court for years makes him seem weak. How will he protect them against such evil magic if he cannot protect his own son? He hired the boy himself, perhaps the king has been enchanted!” Morgana finished, mocking the tone of a frightened villager. 

For the first time since the attack Morgause smiled and then a small laugh came from her. “The people wouldn’t trust him or Arthur.” 

“Not to mention with Uther's health being questionable the kingdom may be going undergoing some big changes soon." The two sisters stared at one another, a self satisfied expression on each of their faces. When there is a shift of power in a kingdom it will always grow weaker before things work as they should, and they could most definitely use that to their advantage.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The morning sun shined brightly through the open windows of the corridor as Arthur walked through the hall with his head held high and his shoulders squared. Lately the people had seen a lot more of him around Camelot. He tended to be in places where his father would typically be, it made the people talk, but most didn’t mind. Uther wasn’t exactly a universally loved king. Behind him the faithful footsteps of George sounded. Arthur had grown accustomed to the sound of little feet pattering behind him instead of clumsy footsteps which landed heavily after each time Merlin tripped. 

“After the council meeting my lord will be having another meeting with Lord Eldren from the east border. He is uneasy with the lack of King Uther’s presence and wishes to speak to you about some quote on quote urgent matters.” 

The prince snorted and rolled his eyes. So far he had never met a noble with an actual urgent matter, in fact most of them just seemed to complain and be generally entitled, not to mention fickle. He’d met Lord Eldren once before when Uther was still up and about, and he had to admit he found the man to be repulsive. Did Arthur’s distaste come mostly from the fact that the Lord had been a tad too friendly with Merlin? Perhaps, but who had the time to dwell on unimportant matters such as these. Certainly not Arthur, prince regent of Camelot. 

“You’ll have to inform Leon that he is to take charge of this afternoon’s training then, in fact I believe it may be prudent he go ahead and do that for at least the next three days.” Arthur had never had such a busy schedule before, he really didn’t know how his father managed it all. He hated to give up training, but he really couldn’t be responsible for it and Leon was more than capable. 

“Right away, sire,” said George and bowed his head even though Arthur wasn’t looking, then he set off with his quick pitter patter footsteps to locate the knight. Arthur looked after George and couldn’t help but to feel amused. He was certainly different than his previous servant, whose name he tried to avoid at all costs in his own mind, but he wasn’t all that bad. He may have been a little uptight at the beginning, but his rigidity was really coming in handy now that Arthur had so many responsibilities. 

The prince nodded at the guards and walked into the council room. He looked around to assess who was there and who was not, who seemed pleased and who seemed concerned. He walked to his side of the table, still avoiding his right to stand in the spot where his father typically stood. 

“Gentlemen, let’s begin.” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere deep in the woods a certain young man snored away in his tent. He was having a rather pleasant dream involving an entire roasted ham to himself. Adhara only knew this because Merlin muttered in his sleep. Her tribe hunted, but only with necessity or on special occasion, so the chances of Merlin getting ham anytime soon were non-existent. Merlin rolled off of his bedroll and onto the dirt floor bringing his blanket with him. In that moment he reminded her a lot of the boy she’d found around a month ago in the forest.

“Merlin,” she said kneeling down next to him and shaking his shoulder gently. 

“ _My_ ham,” he mumbled and turned away from her. 

Merlin was a very heavy sleeper, and while adorable Adhara thought it was perhaps a little dangerous. She’d have to teach him some spells to protect him while he slept or otherwise just about anyone could sneak up on him. 

“Wake up you clot-pole!” she chided now and shook him more forcefully. Merlin had said the word once when referring to Arthur and the old woman had taken quite a liking to it much to his chagrin. 

He groaned and rolled away from her, “Adhara please tell me there’s a reason why you’re waking me up at this ungodly hour?” 

The old woman didn’t respond and simply yanked one of the flaps of his tent open. Sunlight poured in and he cursed and squinted his eyes. As they adjusted to the light he was able to see the sun from his place inside the tent. It was definitely not as early as he thought it was. 

“Why are you so tired? Did you spend all night scrying the prince again?” she asked and hid her smile poorly when he gave her an outraged look. 

“I have never done such a thing!” 

“I’m sure you haven’t.” 

Merlin’s lips thinned and he gave her a glare before getting up and stretching leisurely. She teased him, but she knew he hadn’t been scrying Arthur, instead he’d been up reading some of the magical texts she’d gifted him a few days back. It was all the basics of elemental magic and as soon as he got the books he’d thrown himself into learning. She was very happy with all the progress he’d made in the past month. He could scry just about anyone and anywhere, creepily well if you asked her. One morning she’d walked in to his tent after hearing a strange sound only to realize he had figured out how to scry _and_ listen to whatever he was seeing without her teaching. A majestic waterfall sounded in his tent and they both watched it for several moments. Sometimes he did things she did not understand, and he could not explain. After showing him how to scry Arthur, he figured out how to focus his magic to scry places in a way that hadn’t made much sense to Adhara. Usually when one scryed it was with a target and a purpose, but Merlin didn’t seem to need those. 

“A waterfall is a target,” he said to her as if it was self explanatory, “it’s alive just like any other subject would be, and it has a specific location.” 

“Yes but how does the spell locate this one in specific, there are no identifying factors.” 

“Of course there are! Its magical print is unlike any other in the world,” he exclaimed, “You can _feel_ the difference. All you need to do to find it is feel for the place or person you want to speak with and you hardly need anything else ... not that your way of doing it isn't really great too," he mended a bit at the end. It really didn't explain the process to her, and was equal parts frustrating and impressive. Adhara hadn’t pushed much after that. 

Now he stood before her, light stubble on his chin and hair that was already crazy before growing shaggy around his ears. He had come to the camp with absolutely nothing, but it hadn’t been a problem as many of the druids gifted him things. She could see it made him uncomfortable taking their offerings, but the robe he wore now had been a necessity. She thought he quite liked robes. 

“I think I’m ready today,” he announced and Adhara snapped back into reality. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. He’d been nervous and unsure about this since the first day they started training and he’d been putting it off. She herself didn’t know how to help him and so she did not rush him. 

“It cannot wait any longer. Balinor might be dead, but I am alive, and although I have his power I have not been a dragon lord at all. I must mend that.” Merlin’s face was serious now and she could see a fierce determination in his eyes. 

“Then we start today,” she agreed wisely and started for the exit only to be stopped by Merlin’s voice once more. 

“But first … I’m hungry, do you happen to have some ham by any chance?” 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Lancelot spotted Gwen across the courtyard. Afternoon training would start soon enough, but no one had seen Arthur yet so they still had some time. He jogged over to her as he called her name. She turned and at the sight of him a beautiful smile grew on her face. He felt his stomach do a few flips at the sight but tried to ignore the feeling as much as possible. Gwen and Arthur were together, and Lancelot had always strived to be a noble man. He would never dream of coming in between two people, but he needed to be around Gwen, at least as a friend so he still approached. 

“Afternoon, Sir Knight,” she greeted him with a curtsy. Gwen was adorable. 

“Afternoon, Gwen, need any help?” He nodded at the basket filled with fabric she had rested on one of her hips. Since Morgana left she had started taking small mending and tailoring jobs as well as still doing maid work around the castle to make ends meet. 

“I’d love some help,” she said plopping the basket in his arms. An involuntary grunt left Lancelot as the full weight pulled him down, he had no idea how she’d made it look like it wasn’t heavy at all. 

“I’m still not done, I need to go to Mrs. Brookers home and pick up some breeches she wanted me to mend for her son.” 

“By the Gods you’re going to put _more_ things in the basket?” he asked with disbelief and Gwen couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 

“Surely you’re strong enough to carry a few pairs of breeches Sir Lancelot,” she teased and pushed him playfully. He laughed with her at nothing in particular, but it seemed whenever they were around each other a general sense of joy seemed to float in the air. 

“I’ll do my best, although we may have to hurry, I have training soon.” 

At the mention of training a little bit of joy drained from Gwen’s face, “It seems even you get to spend more time with Arthur than me." It had been said in a joking tone, but she couldn't keep all of her disappointment from her voice. 

Lancelot’s heart sank a little but he didn’t let it show on his face. “Arthur has been extra busy lately since his father’s been giving him more responsibility, but I’m sure he would love to spend time with you Gwen. Spending time with you is wonderful.” 

Gwen blushed and looked down at her feet as they made their way, “Thank you Lancelot. And I suppose you’re right, it isn’t as if he’s been avoiding me. In a way it’s good that the King is giving Arthur more responsibility, they must be mending the distrust caused by … well you know.” 

“Indeed,” Lancelot replied, the mood soured by thoughts of Merlin, “but we should hurry to Mrs. Brookers home or my arms will fall off before training and I won’t be able to hold a sword.” 

The joke caught Gwen off guard and she laughed unceremoniously, a snort leaving her. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth and a flush spread itself across her tanned cheeks. Lancelot himself was quiet for a few seconds but he couldn’t fight back the laughter that bubbled over. Just like that they were joyful once more and they continued to laugh as they ran Gwen's errands. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

The leaves crunched under Merlin’s boots as he walked through the forest. The sun shined through the canopy, lighting random patches of grass. He loved to feel how serene the forest was at this time of day, and as he walked he let himself marvel at how the world kept spinning even though for him everything had changed. He was currently on his way to a clearing deep in the woods he’d scryed for earlier. It was here that he planned on calling Aithusa for the first time since they’d parted, he was nervous to see him. As he walked, flashes of the village flooded his mind. Aithusa was young, but incredibly powerful. In fact, the dragonling reminded him of a younger version of himself. Full of power, and no idea how to use it properly. 

The treeline started to open up little by little until the clearing was in full view. It was barren, and the grass yellowed and dead in certain areas, but really all he needed was the open space. He didn’t know exactly what he would do when Aithusa arrived, but he figured it was a good idea to let him have his space. 

Merlin walked to the middle of the clearing and parked his feet shoulder width apart. Deep breaths of fresh air were inhaled and let out slowly through his mouth. He let that ancient rumble grow in his belly and come erupting from his throat. Eyes flashed gold, and the call of the dragon lord echoed through the space, making birds flutter away from the trees. A few moments passed, but nothing happened. Perhaps Aithusa was very far away, it might take him a long time to arrive. 

With sweaty palms Merlin settled himself down in the grass to wait a little more. It didn’t take very long, however, before his concern got the better of him. Closing his eyes he tried hard to feel for the dragon the way he could sometimes feel magic users around him when he probed it with his own. It didn’t matter how far he let his mind probe, he could find no sign of the dragon or his magic. He stood again, anxiety coiling deep in his gut. 

“DRACA!” He roared once more. This time the call thundered out of him louder than it ever had before. It was almost as if he were the call itself, and he felt the wind move around as it searched for Aithusa. He felt something then, it was feather-light and then gone in an instant. He growled out in frustration at the loss of connection between him and the dragon. It was like hanging from a cliff and having your fingers slip from the very edge. He stood stiffly, his mind whirling to find a solution. How was he supposed to know what to do? No one had ever taught him. An idea caused his head to snap up to the skies and his stomach fluttered with hope. 

He called again, yet this time he did not seek the small dragon that evaded him easily. A few minutes went by and Merlin began to sweat under his robe, if Kilgharrah did not show up either it could be that something was wrong with either his dragons or him. Just when Merlin was on the verge of panic he heard the distant fluttering of wings, never before had he been so glad to hear that sound. Kilgharrah’s dark form became visible against the light blue sky, but he flew so far up anyone else could’ve mistaken him for a large bird of prey. Merlin’s shoulders slumped as Kilgharrah tipped his nose down and began his speedy descent. The wind sang around the dragon, and as he neared, the trees and grass blew with each flap of his great wings. 

Kilgharrah landed softer than Merlin would’ve expected from such a large creature and bowed his head slowly. It might’ve been something like respect, except for the near scowl on his scaly features. This irked Merlin seeing as he had an emergency, and what had Kilgarah been doing? Most likely snacking on some sheep and taking a nice nap while Merlin worked very hard for their future. Merlin crossed his arms and craned his neck upward to look at the great dragon in the eyes. 

“Am I bothering you?” he asked, now glaring. 

“Yes, but that’s to be expected from you, young warlock,” responded the dragon matter-of-factly. If a dragon could look bored, that is what Kilgharrah looked like. 

Merlin’s mouth screwed to one side and he considered telling the dragon off, but he found he quite needed the beast at the moment. “I need your help,” he tried instead with a calm voice. 

Amusement crept into the large round eyes, “Of course you do,” he chuckled huskily, “when don’t you need my help?” 

“It’s about Aithusa,” Merlin hissed out through gritted teeth. 

At the mention of the other dragon Kilgharrah seemed to grow serious for the first time since he arrived. His toothy smirk was hidden away as he seemed to focus his all seeing eyes on Merlin. He fought the urge to fidget under the scrutinizing look. Finally the dragon huffed out small puffs of smoke from its nostrils and seemed to nod it’s giant head. “I see much has changed since our last interaction. The two halves have etched themselves out of the coin …” 

“I’m not in the mood for riddles, Kilgharrah.” 

“You wish to reach Aithusa.” 

Merlin was thrown for a second but tried to hide his shock, of course Kilgharrah knew somehow. He didn’t manage to recover quick enough and the dragon whipped his tail nonchalantly, “I heard you calling to him.” 

“So I’m not doing it wrong?” asked Merlin, letting his concern seep through. 

“I never said that. Your call to him is hollow. You call to him only with your voice.” 

“Right … how the hell is he supposed to hear me then?” Merlin asked with irritation. He knew he was being a bit rude, but his frustration had reached new heights, and he somehow couldn’t help but feel hurt that Aithusa had ignored him. He couldn’t quite explain the emptiness it left in his chest to have his call go unanswered. Thankfully Kilgharrah did not subscribe to silly human concepts like politeness and moved the conversation along with grace. 

“You must call to him as his lord and kin, not as you would to a lost man. If you do it right, the volume of your call shouldn’t matter.” Kilgharrah stared intently at Merlin and seemed to soften as much as his reptilian heart would allow, humans could be quite sensitive. 

“I need your help,” Merlin repeated, his voice steady but his posture defeated. 

“Then you shall have it. I cannot refuse my lord. Your soul is distant from ours, even more so from Aithusa. After he broke through his shell and you named him, you let him go. He does not know your soul or your call, you are but a loud ringing in his ears. Bond with me, and through the strengthening of our bond, you must reach him as well.” 

Kilgharrah let the tiny human process his words some moments and then finally settled his huge form upon the ground, little clouds of dust being kicked up as he wriggled into a comfortable position like a large dog, a strange juxtaposition to how serious he’d sounded seconds ago. He laid his wizened old eyes on the small warlock and blinked in that detached reptilian way. 

“Well, are you waiting for an invitation?” the cranky old dragon teased and watched as Merlin approached with weariness. 

“Is this actually going to work or are you playing some sort of trick, Kilgharrah? I know you love to see me make a fool of myself.” 

“You do that well enough on your own,” Kilgharrah responded and curled his mouth into a toothy grin once more. It didn’t look overly friendly. “Now get on with it, I am only getting older the longer you take.”

Merlin grumbled under his breath but argued no more and laid a tentative hand upon Kilgharrah’s giant head. He’d always seemed huge, but that was several yards away in a dark cave, here in the daylight and close up he looked bigger than ever. One of Kilgharrah’s open eyes were as big as Merlin’s entire head. He wasn’t afraid, but he had to admit he was in awe, how could Uther ever have hunted these majestic creatures? 

He stood before the dragon now and even with Kilgarah’s head resting on the ground the dragon’s forehead was at eye-level. He reached out a large hand and laid it softly in between his eyes. He closed his own to better concentrate and felt the forest around him begin to fade away. 

“You must let go of any anxieties, young warlock,” said Kilgharrah, the vibrations of his deep voice passing through Merlin’s arm. “Only then will you be able to connect with me, and I with you.” 

At first Merlin felt nothing happening, but if he had learned anything in these past few weeks it was patience and practice were important, and he wasn’t planning on giving up any time soon. A tingling began to form at the tips of his fingers on the hand which touched Kilgharrah, for a second he thought it was falling asleep, but then the tingling grew hotter and hotter. The heat spread up his arm and slowly smoothed over his entire body. His very being rejoiced in the heat, in the soul of a dragon making contact with him, the last living dragon lord. Ever so slowly he and the dragon merged, not in body, but in mind and soul. 

He saw the world from his place high up in the clouds and felt the rush of pride as fire swelled hot and bright from his mouth. He felt the vicious hunger as he spotted a meal, and the amusement at how silly humans could be. He saw other dragons and the bond they shared filled him with joy, and then his eyes laid upon Balinor and a love and respect larger than anything he’d known before took over his very heart. Balinor roared his commands and the wrinkles which Merlin had once seen on his face were nowhere to be found. He flew swiftly and thrived along with his brothers and sisters under the careful watch of his master. 

Then he heard the voices of other humans, and their voices were not welcome to him as Balinor’s had been. These voices were weak and angry and at the sight of him the humans who possessed them tried to pierce his hide with their primitive tools. They bounced off of course, and he retaliated with fierce fire that burned them to a crisp. The days grew dark for him and his kin until one day their lord ordered them to disperse and hide, to run from the realm called Camelot which had belong to them for as long as he’d lived. 

All was well until one day he felt in his very bones the call of Balinor, ringing loud and clear to make their way back home. They were to be spared, or at least that is what their master said, and so they went. He gathered in the forest of the kingdom with his family of dragons and they were surrounded by knights in their silly metal head coverings and mail. Their swords and spears pointed at them, but they did not retaliate for Balinor ordered them to not hurt these humans, and an order from a dragon lord was binding. 

“I have brought them all to you, sire,” Balinor spoke in the way he did to humans, his voice quieter and without command. “I will order them to protect Camelot and they will never harm this kingdom. You will have nothing to fear.” 

Beside him Uther stood tall and still unaffected by the years. His hair still held gold and his stance was that of the warrior he was. “I fear nothing,” he spoke in a calm and calculating manner, “but you should.” 

Balinor had no chance to grow confused as Uther knocked him over the head with the hilt of his sword, he went down easily. The body of his master looked so insignificant as it lay crumpled upon the dirt. The dragons tensed and many growled and hissed, but it was no use. In their bones the order to come here and stay still held, and even worse they could harm none of these humans. Weapons enchanted with magic flew across the air and hit their targets, swords slashed through thick skin like butter and the red blood of the creatures who had ruled this land was spilled into the soil. 

“I think I’ll keep this one as a trophy,” said the now bloodied king as he looked to Kilgharrah. 

“You are not my lord,” responded the dragon with a booming voice. The fire burned brightly within him, but he could not break free from the words spoken earlier. 

“No,” said Uther smugly and smiled as if he was just as big and scary as the dragon he faced, “but I am your lord’s lord, and he is my servant.” Uther stepped on Balinor’s shoulder and the pain caused Balinor to jerk awake. The man screamed, not from the pain to his own body, but at the feeling of losing his children. 

Merlin snapped back into his body as he jerked away from Kilgharrah. Bile rose sour in his throat and he was sick right onto the dirt. It was all too much. Kilgharrah lived through the slaughter of his kind, much like he did, but for the dragon it was more visceral. He lost everything in an instant. Worst of all it was his father who was tricked into trapping his children. He felt the love the dragon had had for his father and it was so much bigger than anything his human heart was capable of, he himself had never grown to love Balinor so strongly. 

“It will pass, young warlock,” said Kilgharrah in a soft way. When Merlin looked up and caught the dragon’s eye there was a reverence that hadn’t been there before. He himself felt closer to Kilgharrah, a bond had formed when they shared each other’s minds. He wondered what it was the dragon had seen within him. Merlin realized then what he had not been able to grasp before. 

He was not simply their wrangler, he was to be their family. Their magic resided within him as well and he had not been the master that they needed. He never understood Kilgharrah’s riddles because he never strived to, never forged a connection with him because he didn’t think to do so, but he’d had every chance. He could tell Kilgharrah appreciated him a little more now, not that he would say it out loud, and not as much as he had loved Balinor … yet. 

Merlin got up and took strength from the way Kilgharrah was looking at him. He felt he understood now, or at least understood more than he had at the start of the day. The old dragon nodded, answering an unasked question and Merlin nodded back. He could do this. 

“Draca, eom, ala, sece findan metan, teosu hus anbid!” He called out to the sky. His voice was not loud, but it rumbled out from deep within him and resounded all around. This time his request felt solid and he could almost track the call to where Aithusa was. He was far, but Merlin could feel him anyway. 

Kilgharrah perked his head up and looked to the sky, “listen.” 

It was faint, only a sound Merlin and the dragons would’ve been able to hear. It was the rhythmic flapping of leathery wings. It was different from the sound of Kilgharrah. Where the great dragons strokes where sure and strong, Aithusa’s seemed to flutter around with speed and indecision. He was harder to spot, but eventually Merlin’s eyes locked onto a white dot in the distance and he tracked it as it grew and grew in size. When Merlin could finally make out the gnarled shaped of Aithusa’s body in detail a great lump formed in his throat. 

He landed less swiftly than the older dragon, his claws pulling up large tufts of grass and soil as they dragged across the ground to slow himself to a stop. Aithusa did not venture closer to Merlin, a nervous energy radiating from the young creature. A part of him that he hadn’t known existed until moments ago with Kilgharrah seemed to grow and grow at the sight of his dragon and he walked forward toward the animal. His strides were sure but gentle, like one does when approaching a frightened animal, which you generally shouldn’t do. Aithusa however was much more than just a frightened animal. 

“Hello, Aithusa,” said Merlin tenderly when he was only a few feet away. 

The dragon blinked at him owlishly but did not speak or move. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he knew Aithusa could not speak the way Kilgharrah always did. 

“I’m going to get closer now,” he informed the dragon, and when there was no protest he moved closer and raised a hand. The dragon shrank his head away as Merlin reached forward to touch it, but did not move away when the hand finally made contact. Merlin knew just because Aithusa couldn’t speak didn’t mean that the dragon lacked intelligence, and he thought about how he might approach Kilgharrah in this situation. He’d want to give him dignity and interact with him the way equals do, not treat him like a wounded little creature. Yet, Aithusa was still young and he thought the hand petting him could be taken as empathy and not condescension. 

“I know you’re wary of me,” he spoke quietly, “but I can’t have that anymore. I haven’t given you what you need, but I want to.” 

Aithusa finally pipped, and somehow Merlin felt he understood just what it meant. 

“Yes, I’ve hurt Morgana,” he began, and Aithusa backed away a fraction once more, “but not without reason. I had to. Please believe me when I say, once she was a dear friend to me too.” 

A series of clicks came from the white dragon, a mixture of confusion and hesitation. 

“Let me in, Aithusa, and in turn I will let you in. That way you can look for whatever it is you search for. So that you can see my true intentions. I can command you to do as I wish, but you are not a slave to me, you are mine to care for and protect.” 

A high pitched whine erupted from the creature and then a few clicks. It was an acceptance, although he could still feel the dragon filled with caution. 

“Thank you,” he whispered and smiled softly. 

Aithusa dipped his head downward and laid it on the dirt, settling much like Kilgharrah had before, minus a few differences. The main one of these being a considerable variation in size. His forehead now rested at around the level of his calf. Kilgharrah watched with rapt attention as their lord got down on his knees in the dirt with no concern for his clothing or appearance. Ever so gently he laid his forehead against the dragons, bent at the waist and with his hands softly on Aithusa’s muzzle he looked every bit the lord he was meant to be. 

Merlin closed his eyes and breathed slowly, each breath he puffed out filled with any uncertainty he held within him before. The breaths changed with each huff, growing hotter and hotter until it felt like fire was coiled in his belly. The fire burned so hot it almost felt cold and he found his small human body felt infinite in size. 

Aithusa rumbled next to him, the vibrations rattling through his fragile human bones, but he felt no disturbance whatsoever. In the space he had cultivated only his mind existed and here his rumbling was like the soft waves of the ocean shore, washing over him with foamy softness. Human words began to slip away from his mind and the feeling of arms were traded for vast wings. He was one with Aithusa and it was here he truly saw the extent of his child’s pain. He felt what it was like to grow hungry with a dragons appetite but be too weak and young to fight his captors. He felt what it was like to have your bones lengthen only to be curled by the stone walls of a well, the pain they radiated always. 

Not all of it was bad however, because among all of this there was a soft presence in Aithusa’s heart. It was a woman with skin almost as pale as his hide, she too sat in the well and cried from the ache in her bones and the pit in her stomach. It was her soft human hands that caressed his head and sang him sweet songs he could understand but not return. She was a protector to him, a mother which raised him through the worst condition a dragon can suffer: captivity. 

Merlin fell away from his position resting against Aithusa’s forehead and slouched. His body felt too small now, and he shook with the exertion of entering his dragons mind. His hands remained on the dragon’s muzzle however and his thumbs moved in soothing circles. 

Now he understood why Aithusa was doing the things that he did. The dragon did not follow human morals, the carnage which he had caused at her commands were only the way of nature to him. Yet the loyalty which he owed Morgana did matter. Before they’d been wiped out dragons had a strong connection to one another, they would always form bonds with those they treasured, and for Aithusa that was Morgana. 

“I’m sorry I was not there for you, my Aithusa,” whispered Merlin as he pressed a soft cheek against rough scales. 

Aithusa could not speak, he had not developed well in captivity, but he whined softly in response. It was a sorrowful sound, not quite an acceptance of the apology. The salty tears which Merlin couldn’t help but shed slid down Aithusa’s pearly white hide. He bared his soul to the dragon and let the guilt burn brightly and painfully so that he too could feel it; feel the remorse and the love for him that lied in his kin’s heart. 

The dragon rumbled once more, the sound coming deep from within his belly, and pushed it’s large head further into Merlin’s hands. This time the action was soft and hinted at forgiveness that could be earned. Merlin smiled and threw his arms around the dragon’s skinny neck. 

“I will be a better lord, Aithusa. From now on I will protect you as my own, like I should’ve since that first day, and you will never be alone again. No one will hurt you again.” 

High pitched pips erupted from the dragon’s throat and somehow Merlin knew exactly what the dragon meant. It might be able to form a bond with his rightful lord, but that did not mean he could forget Morgana as if she had not shown him the kindness he needed. As if she had not been his master and company when they were both alone. The warlock nodded his head and parted slowly from the creature, looking softly into its large eyes. He still had a lot of work to do.

\-------------------------------------------------------

With each new day that passed Morgause grew stronger until a week later she rose from her bed for the first time in a long time. She could not move as freely as she could before, the wound was almost completely closed but the scar tissue was still painful and she walked slightly hunched to her left. She hobbled over to the wooden table Morgana used so often and fell into its corresponding chair with a hiss. 

“Enough of this useless sitting around,” she spoke to herself. She wanted to find out where the king was and why he’d been hiding. With displeasure she looked around the table trying to locate the things she needed, but found only a bowl and nothing more that could be of use to her. 

“Sister!” she called and her voice echoed in the empty chambers of the fortress. Once it had been a beautiful and functioning place, now it was only a temporary habitat while they regained their strengths.

Morgana’s footsteps sounded as she climbed the stairs to Morgause’s room and she walked in. As soon as she spied her sister sitting up and out of bed her lips thinned into a hard line and her hands flew to her hips. 

“Why exactly are you out of bed?” 

“That is unimportant. I need materials to scry,” Morgause narrowed her eyes and looked at Morgana, “and I’ll need some of your hair.” 

“What for?” Morgana asked as she walked toward her sister, concern etched on her features. 

“We must find out more on Uther's condition at once. We cannot assume he is still unwell as he was in your dreams. Perhaps he is planning something away from the limelight, or wants to seem weak to lure us in.” 

“And why will you need my hair?” 

“You’re a Pendragon,” Morgause stated as if that answered the question. 

Morgana loved her sister dearly, but at times she could be condescending. “I’ll collect the materials,” she offered and turned to leave. 

“Do try and hurry, dear sister,” Morgause said watching her back as she walked away, “we’ve no time to waste.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin sat on a flat rock near a bubbling stream. The sound was soothing and he allowed it to calm his frayed nerves. After his first successful encounter with the dragons he let Kilgharrah go and asked Aithusa to stay. They spent every moment together in an attempt to grow closer. At times they would bond and speak to each other with images and feelings until Merlin could no longer sustain the connection. Other days they simply spent together doing whatever it was that the agenda demanded. On Aithusa’s end that included hunting for something delicious to eat and taking long naps with his limbs spread out and his belly up. On Merlin’s end it included trying bigger spells in the clearing with Adhara’s help and his dragonling watching raptly. It had been lovely, but Merlin could still feel resistance in Aithusa’s mind. Granted it was only a little over a week. On the last day Merlin could see Aithusa was restless and if there was anything Merlin wanted to avoid it was keeping him prisoner with a command he wouldn’t be able to break. 

He’d watched the dragonling fly away earlier today, and for the first time felt the anxiety of a parent releasing their child into the big scary world. What if Aithusa could not resist Morgana? What if the knights found him and injured the creature? Hunith had not raised a quitter, but if Merlin was honest he may have wanted to quit and take a nap at least a little. 

His mother’s kind eyes and encouraging words came over his defeated frame and he sat a little straighter as he watched the water gurgle by. His mother was strong and soft like these waters, perhaps that is why he liked them so much. A fortnight after his arrival at the camp he’d sent her a letter detailing everything that happened with the help of Adhara and a handy teleportation spell. The letter was neatly spelled into her hut and found its way safely to his mother. He also scryed her from time to time to make sure no one was bothering her. The last part she was not privy to since Merlin had been a bit cowardly with using his new abilities to reach out to loved ones. In theory he could talk to her anytime he wished now, yet it always seemed the longer you wait to speak with someone the harder it gets … was he even still thinking of Hunith? 

A hand landed softly upon his shoulder and he jumped. 

**It is only me, Emrys.**

Adhara called him Merlin most of the time, and he felt if she could make the effort to call him Merlin, then he could make the effort to allow others to call him Emrys … sometimes. 

“Yes. I suppose I was just lost in thought.” 

**What were you thinking about?** she asked, refusing to speak out loud and ruin the beautiful silence of the stream. 

“Aithusa.” The half truth would do for now. 

**Ah. I could’ve sworn you were worried over someone else.** She didn’t need to clarify who she meant, they both knew. **Why have you been avoiding scrying him? I thought you wanted to talk to him, now you know how but still refuse to.**

“I haven’t been avoiding him!” protested Merlin. “I’ve just been busy.” 

**Yes. Sleeping in can be time consuming.**

Merlin smiled but did not speak. Perhaps he had been avoiding Arthur, but he just didn’t know what to say or do. Would the prince even want to speak with him? Sure, in the forest he’d been reasonable, but those had been intense circumstances. Who knew how he felt now that he’d had time to think. The last time he checked on Arthur he’d been fine, just going about his business, in fact he’d seemed very busy. He was moving on with his life, and that was good. 

He’d scryed Gaius however, and they’d spoken for a short while. The old man had almost suffered a heart attack when Merlin’s voice came out of the water basin and Gaius had quickly run to the rickety wooden door and locked it. As soon as he got back he reprimanded Merlin for his blatant use of magic, it was just like old times. Merlin was excited to speak to his uncle, but hadn’t gotten farther than a “how are you” before someone was knocking at Gaius’s door. The physician was a busy man, and with a crooked smile he waved goodbye to Merlin and swirled his hand in the water, making the connection break. Since then Merlin hadn’t had another chance to try and scry or talk to anyone … plus he’d been avoiding it too. 

“He’ll be happy to hear from you, Merlin,” Adhara said next to him and her voice sounded sincere. 

He’d grown to appreciate the telepathic communication the druids used so often. He found it was nice when he needed to say things he wasn’t sure he could say out loud, it was so much easier to just think it. It also meant that when someone spoke out loud, the words just meant that much more. Merlin felt reassured at her words and nodded. 

**You’re a wise woman** he said, hoping that him speaking that way meant as much to her as it did to him when she spoke out loud. 

She smiled as if to say _I know_ and then got up from her spot next to him. She left him alone so he could think about what she’d said. She knew he’d come to the right conclusion eventually.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Uther Pendragon was strewn in his king sized bed and tossing his head side to side mumbling in his sleep. His reflection was glossy on the surface of the water of Morgana’s bowl and the sisters watched with interest as the king whined feebly. Such a mighty man, reduced to nothing more than a whining sweaty mess.

“It’s even better than we hoped,” whispered Morgana from her spot next to Morgause.

“The mighty Uther has taken ill,” mocked Morgause, a smirk curling the corner of her mouth. 

“We should attack now, the kingdom is weak without their king.” 

“We must wait,” said Morgause turning to look at her sister, “Camelot is weak, but it has farther to fall. It will be at its weakest when that pest dies. When the power first shifts to his son is when the kingdom will be at its weakest. Arthur will be destroyed, and Uther gone. With that serving boy nowhere to be seen there will be no one left to protect Camelot.” 

“And you can continue to heal, we need you at your strongest if we are to succeed this time.” 

Morgause smiled at her sister and nodded. “Soon we’ll take our kingdom back, and magic will have its revenge.” 

“We have a lot of work to do,” said Morgana extending her hand to Morgause. 

The blonde took her sisters hand and hefted herself onto her feet. The wound on her side sent a pang of pain through her which had her sweating cold. She took a deep breath to steady herself and then nodded at Morgana. They had things to get done. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Arthur sat at Uther’s bedside and watched his father sleep soundly. When the prince had first arrived he was fussing and when his personal servant tried to arrange the blankets securely around the Kings body, Uther pushed him aside and growled at him to get away. His eyes were bleary and as he looked around his rooms he looked lost. It was only when his eyes landed upon Arthur that he calmed. 

“Son,” he breathed in a much softer tone than Arthur had ever heard. 

“I’m here father,” Arthur found himself saying as he took Uther’s hand in his own. 

They had never shared moments like these before, but ever since Uther became afflicted this was not uncommon. Gaius said Uther was delusional, lost in a haze his mind created and couldn’t free himself from. Morgana had killed Uther without laying so much as a finger on him. She was tearing the kingdom apart without trying. Arthur felt conflicted as he looked upon his father’s withering form. He knew Uther was a bad man, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. For most of his life he hadn’t seen the error in Uther’s actions, and even though he was a cold man he had always loved Arthur. Arthur loved him too. 

Gaius came in to the room without knocking and looked over the prince. “Sire, you need to rest as well.” 

“I’ll rest later,” Arthur said absently, smoothing Uther’s greying hair away from his clammy forehead.

“It’s time for his feeding,” Gaius spoke softly and Arthur’s heart lurched in his chest. 

Uther had always been a symbol of strength to Arthur, it didn’t seem right he would need to be fed, yet he did. The King hadn’t fed himself in a while now actually. He was capable of little more than sleeping, and when he awoke it was only to ramble about Morgana or Arthur. Waking him often agitated him and trying to get him to eat was difficult. He knew enough to know he was King and he wielded his power without restraint, even now people still feared him. 

“I’ll help,” offered Arthur. 

Gaius nodded and went out to the hall to receive the tray of food that’d been brought up for the King. It wasn’t much, a broth with chicken breast and chopped vegetables. They’d be lucky if they could get him to swallow a few spoonfuls. Gaius placed the tray on the Kings fine nightstand and looked at Arthur to see if he was ready. The prince nodded and Gaius stepped forward to shake Uther awake. 

“Your majesty,” he tried, “it is time for dinner. Cook has made a broth specially for you.” 

The King stirred but did not wake. Arthur stepped forward and moved Gaius aside as politely as he could. “Father, you need to eat.” He placed a hand on Uther’s shoulder and shook him softly. At first nothing but then finally his eyes peeled open and he looked up at Arthur. 

“Ygraine?” he asked, his eyes glued to Arthur’s face. There was wonder and joy in the King’s features, but only for a split second before whatever he was seeing vanished into thin air and the King understood his dead wife was not in fact shaking him awake. 

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly as he sat up and jerked away from Arthur, “how dare you put your hands on my royal person without my permission?” 

“It’s me, Arthur, your son.” The prince looked over at Gaius with concern. 

Uther’s eyes widened with rage and his cheeks shook as he glared at Arthur, “My wife Ygraine was barren, she could not have children! What kind of sick joke is this! Leave me at once!” 

Arthur felt like he’d been slapped across the face, he was shocked and hurt. He opened his mouth to try and reason with the king but Gaius placed a hand on his arm and shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, sire, but it may be for the best if you retire for today. He’s becoming agitated. Besides, you need your own dinner.” 

The King continued to glare at Arthur like he was scum at the bottom of his shoes and turned to Gaius now, “Gaius! Thank goodness you’re here old friend. Make him leave!” 

The old man looked at the prince with a million apologies in his eyes. Arthur simply sighed and left the chambers. How could his father not recall who he was? This was insanity. He felt a lump forming in his throat and he swallowed harshly to make it go away. It didn’t. 

\-----------------------------------------------

The sun was setting for the day, it’s final rays disappearing behind the trees. Merlin was already in his tent avoiding everyone at the camp. All this Aithusa business had him consumed with anxiety. He needed to figure out what to do about that dragon and fast. He knew he could handle the magic Morgana and Morgause threw at him, but if they had his dragon at their command he wasn’t sure what he could do to stop it. How he could change the attachment Aithusa had with Morgana in a healthy way. If he just ordered the dragon to stay away from Morgana would it cause Aithusa to pull away from Merlin? 

In that moment he longed for his father to be alive. He’d only known the man for a day, but he’d known he was a good man. He wanted to learn from his father, to be taught how to care for the majestic creatures he was responsible for. What did they need from him? What could he do to make sure they were alright? 

Surprisingly Arthur popped into his mind then. Merlin had only known Balinor for a day, but wept at his loss nonetheless, he thought he understood what the desire to know your father and please him was. He’d served Arthur long enough to know Uther mattered a lot to him, even if the prince wished he didn’t. Certainly Uther had been disappointed with Arthur for letting Merlin get away, how had he reacted? How did Arthur take Uther’s reaction? If he was hurting he would have no one to tell. 

A fire seemed to light in him then and he reached for his bowl. He exited the tent and walked through the camp. In the center a big fire burned brightly, many druids surrounding it and drinking wine they made themselves. Merlin had tried it once, it was stronger than anything he’d had in Camelot, he thought Gwaine would’ve liked it. A flurry of _Emrys_ passed through his mind and he smiled at them. The past few weeks he’d been getting closer to them all, the thought made him feel even guiltier. Here he was making friends, but who did Arthur have? 

He made it to the stream and he filled the bowl with fresh water. The liquid bubbled with the speed with which it moved and he watched the bubbles pop with impatience, he needed to talk to Arthur now, couldn’t the water in his bowl just hold still? The water seemed to follow the command he didn’t know he’d given and form a still glass-like surface. He opted to stay by the stream instead of going back to the rowdy camp, he wanted to talk to Arthur in peace. 

\-----------------------------------------------

Arthur sat on the side of his bed; head in his hands. George managed to make him eat dinner, but the food tasted bland and Arthur had eaten it with little notice. He dressed for bed in a zombie like state and let George take care of everything else. He wasn’t quite sure when the servant had left, only that he sat in the silence of his chambers now, and it was suffocating. He wanted Merlin. No, he _needed_ Merlin. The prince would’ve given just about anything to hear his senseless chatter right about now. 

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice rang through the chambers and the prince’s head snapped up. Great, now he was going mad with how much he missed the dollop-head.

“Arthur you great prat listen to me!” called Merlin and Arthur placed his head back in his hands. Who would rule Camelot if both the King and Prince regent were lost to insanity? 

“Am I doing this right?” came Merlin’s voice again, with a bit of hesitation now, “I could’ve sworn I did … Arthur, can you hear me or am I just talking to myself like a lunatic?” 

Arthur didn’t mean to laugh, he really didn’t, but whatever delusion his brain was creating it seemed so very much like Merlin that he couldn’t help the amusement or fondness welling up in his chest. 

“Oh very funny, sire. You were just ignoring me then? And to think I went through all the trouble of learning to scry.” 

Now _that_ wasn’t something Arthur thought he could come up with by himself. “Merlin?” he asked incredulously. 

“Over here.” 

“Where?” asked Arthur, not bothering to hide his desperation, “you’re here?” 

“No … not exactly but I can see and hear you just like you can me.” 

“I don’t see you!” The prince was up now walking around his chambers and checking for Merlin’s scrawny form. 

“Follow my voice, cabbage head,” teased Merlin, 

It took Arthur a second, and Merlin didn’t bother to make it any easier for him, but he finally found the source of Merlin’s voice. It was his mirror. Behind his changing screen stood a mirror big enough for him to get ready every morning, although he never used it, people did everything for him. No longer was he looking at his reflection however, instead it was Merlin. Any words dried up in Arthur’s throat at the sight of his friend. Merlin was in the forest, whatever he was using was resting on the forest floor and trees towered behind him, reaching up to the stars that were visible in the night sky. The moon seemed to surround Merlin in a halo of heavenly light. 

His friend looked like he was from a different world there and then. His skin almost as ivory as the sliver of moon visible behind his head. Arthur had forgotten how wild his hair was but as it moved with the slight breeze the black curls were a welcome sight. His eyes, however, were what left Arthur breathless. They were gold, so impossibly bright and beautiful. 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked lifting an eyebrow. 

Only then did Arthur realize he’d been staring, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. “Merlin!” 

“How are you old friend?” asked Merlin, and his smile filled Arthur with a warmth he didn’t know he’d been missing. How had he survived this long without seeing that smile? 

“How am I? Merlin you’re magically in my mirror and you want to talk about how I am? What the hell have you been up to?!” Arthur asked with disbelief. 

“Oh, this and that,” said Merlin as if this was not the craziest thing they’d ever done, “I’m at a druid camp, I’ve been learning as much as I can for when … for when I return.” Merlin swallowed and he looked at Arthur with fear in his eyes, as if waiting for the prince to tell him he wasn’t welcome. _Idiot_. 

“Good. We’ll need you someday.” The smile that won Arthur was worth the treason they were committing. Arthur felt the weight he’d been carrying all alone lifting from his shoulders as he looked at his friend. “Its been a bit ... dull without you here." 

Merlin’s mouth opened in an o and his eyes went comically wide, “Arthur Pendragon! Did I just basically hear you admit you miss me?” 

“No! That is _not_ what I said!” said Arthur on the defensive now. 

Merlin laughed his glorious laugh and looked at Arthur like he was the best thing to ever happened, “I’ve missed you too clot-pole.” 

“I take it back,” replied Arthur at the insult and crossed his arms, looking away from the mirror imperiously. He hoped it wasn't obvious how much he was melting inside. 

“Ah come now your highness,” teased Merlin, “don’t get your royal britches in a twist.” 

Arthur spluttered indignantly, and man had it been far too long since he’d done that. His eyes creased with laughter he couldn’t hold back any longer, it wasn't long before he heard Merlin laughing along with him. _Gods, how he’d needed Merlin._

“How is it that you can do this anyway?” asked Arthur as casually as he could. 

Merlin narrowed his eyes and stared at the prince, “is this your way of asking me to do it more?” 

“Of course not! I would never ask for such a thing!” The flush that crept over Arthur’s face however revealed that’s exactly what he’d been leading up to. 

“I’ll do it as often as I can,” said Merlin sparing Arthur further shame. He always knew just what to do. 

Arthur smiled softly at Merlin and for a moment neither of them spoke. The moment in the forest hung heavy between them, each with their own reasons for not speaking about it. 

**KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.**

“Yes?” called Arthur turning away from the mirror as if he’d been caught, but no one was in the room. 

“It’s your father, sire!” yelled a guard from outside of the doors, “come quick!” 

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur was gone before he could utter a single word. What the hell was happening?


	7. Birth of a Monarch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The semi-calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I finally sat down and plotted this story and finally know what happens and I'm so excited to write the ending!!

Arthur ran through the halls of the castle with abandon, his legs pumping faster and harder as he tried to clear the distance between him and his father. He left the guards trying to catch up to him long ago and as he neared his father’s rooms he could hear a great commotion. The sounds of things shattering and the gruff voice of a disgruntled Uther rang clearly through the hall despite the closed door. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he suspected it had little to do with the running. 

He pushed the large oak door open and was rewarded with a chaotic scene with his father as the director of it. Gaius stood near the King with his hands raised trying feebly to calm the distressed royal. Uther grumbled sounds that weren’t quite words and swiped some more things off of whatever surface he could find.

“Sire! Please, you must get back into bed!” called Gaius, tenderly trying to pull Uther in the right direction. 

“Get away from me!” Yelled Uther as he ripped his arm out of the soft grip. 

“Father!” Arthur ran toward the man but stopped a few feet away when wide and lost eyes were turned onto him. 

“Arthur?” came Uther’s voice and he sounded so small and frightened. 

“Yes,” Arthur said nodding his head slowly and approaching with caution, “It’s Arthur. Your son.” 

He waited for Uther to forget him as he had earlier in the day but instead the rigidity left Uther’s shoulders and he seemed to deflate from his blind rage. His hands were shaking as he beckoned his son to get closer. Arthur took the wide hands in his own and held them tightly, attempting to anchor his father to reality. 

“Morgana,” his father said, “I want to see her. They won’t let me see her.” He sounded so much like an upset child it made Arthur’s heart ache. 

“Perhaps tomorrow, it’s very late and Lady Morgana must be resting. We wouldn’t want to cut her beauty sleep short,” he tried at a joke. 

Uther’s face crumpled into an unreadable expression. “She’s not sleeping,” he finally said with interminable sadness. Without letting go of Arthur’s hand he fell to the floor, his knees thumping against the hard stone. Arthur’s eyes widened and he attempted to pull his father, the King, out of his kneeling position on the ground but the old man would not budge. 

“You need to rest,” he whispered as he too got down on a knee. He didn’t dare speak louder than a whisper because he knew his voice would be shaking uncontrollably, much like the hands that held his father. 

“She’s gone,” Uther continued, now looking deep into Arthur’s eyes, “She’s gone and it’s all my fault.” The admission seemed to be like a knife and once uttered it pierced his heart. His breath turned shaky and harsh, like that of a man who was struggling to stay conscious, “My daughter hates me.” 

Arthur did not try and give Uther false comfort this time. Instead he squeezed his father’s hands in his own and tried to catch his eye. “The bed. We need to get you into the bed.” 

His father shook his head with exasperation and suddenly yanked his hands away from Arthur and doubled over on the ground grasping his left arm. Gaius came in closer, his eyes filled with urgency, “Sire, plea-” he began to beg but was cut off by the king once more. 

“Do you h-” tried Uther, his mouth struggling to shape itself to the words he wanted to say, “hate me, my son?” 

Seconds of deafening silence passed, and it felt as if the world froze for Arthur. What does one say to their father when asked such a question? He hurt so deeply for most of his life, the pain caused both directly and indirectly by Uther. He also knew that he was hardly the only person to suffer at Uther’s hands, in the grand scheme of things he truly was a horrific man, and not even the love he had for his son could erase the genocide he forced onto his kingdom. 

Half of Uther’s face twitched disturbingly as he stared at Arthur like he was the only thing of existence on earth. How Arthur had longed for that look, and now that he had it he would’ve done anything to escape it. “Arthur?” Uther pleaded, half of his mouth seemingly going slack. 

“As a king … as a man,” Arthur finally spoke, his voice raw and thick with tears being held back, “I do.” Uther’s breath hitched and his sweaty hands came to grasp at his sons tunic, as if begging for a forgiveness he would never received. “Yet as a father,” Arthur continued, “I cannot hate you. No matter how much I’m supposed to.” 

Those seemed to have been the magic words and Uther, for the very first time in Arthur’s life, wept like a baby. It was an ugly thing, half of his face being unresponsive, the other curled into agony and relief all at once. “For all my failings,” Uther struggled to speak, “I did o-one good thing.” He reached out with one hand and laid it softly against Arthur’s wet cheek. It was the kind of sweet gesture that father’s gift their sons, the kind of thing Uther never did to Arthur. If it was always this painful, then Arthur was glad that Uther never did it before. 

“Father,” Arthur sniffled, “you must get in bed.” Even as he spoke the words he knew they were hollow, but perhaps if he didn’t admit it, then reality would just fly away and leave him and his father alone. 

“My son,” Uther said, his eyes shining with love and pain, and then just like that his hand fell away and whatever Uther was going to say went unheard. His eyes were still open, but nothing stared back at Arthur as he sat frozen, his father now limp in his arms. A tyrant was dead, and that might be a good thing, but that tyrant was Arthur’s father, and losing a father can rarely be seen as a positive.

\--------------------------------------------

Merlin stared in horror as Arthur hugged Uther’s body to his chest and rocked back and forth. He was sobbing into his father’s shoulder the way men who aren’t taught to cry tend to do, which is to say with great heaving gasps and laments so loud they echo off the walls. Gaius tried to comfort the prince, but it had no effect, and when the guards approached to try and help, Arthur ordered them all back fiercely. 

“Leave!” he yelled at them all, his eyes shining with an anger targeted at anyone who dared to exist within his sight. Everyone shuffled out of the room and left the grieving prince alone. 

It was a private matter, and maybe Merlin shouldn’t have watched, but the thought never crossed his mind as he sat frozen watching Arthur cry. He didn’t know what he’d expected, hadn’t thought of it much really, but this outburst of emotion was beyond what he could image. Arthur’s shuddering cries died down as the time passed until he was simply rocking back and forth softly and resting his cheek on the wet shoulder he’d cried into. He looked so young and lost. 

In a worrying manner he stared off into the middle distance, a blankness taking over his features. Slowly he let go of his father, disentangling himself from the shell of Uther Pendragon. He didn’t get up as Merlin would have predicted, instead he laid down next to his father’s now still form and closed his eyes. “It’s better this way. It’s better for Camelot,” he said to himself, his voice empty and foreign.

Merlin didn’t realize he was crying until a tear dripped into the water, the image of his prince distorting until it vanished. He hastily wiped at his eyes and picked up the bowl. He had to get to Arthur, there was no way he was staying here another second. He walked with purpose through the dark forest and toward the bonfire that was visible in the distance. 

As he passed by the druids seemed to sober, the laughter dying down as they sensed the negative energy radiating off of Emrys. No one dared to approach, but a flurry of concerned whispers tickled his mind. This time he did not smile and wave, but walked straight to his tent to find whatever it was he would need for the journey. It was precisely as he was throwing his meager belongings about in a very unproductive manner that a tent flap opened and a quiet presence entered. 

“Is everything alright, Merlin?” asked Adhara, sounding far too much like Gaius. 

“No,” he answered dismissively as he threw random items into a sac. “I just need to find … my things” he said spinning about looking at nothing and everything at once, “I’m leaving.” 

Adhara watched for a few more seconds as the young warlock moved about in a frenzy yet got nothing done. “What’s happened?” she asked solemnly. 

Merlin froze with his back to her, “The King is dead.” 

Whatever it was she thought was wrong that was certainly not it. If anything, this was a moment to rejoice, Uther Pendragon was no longer a threat to magic users and Merlin could get on with this whole bringing on a new golden age. She watched as he took a few shaky breaths, the usually unshakeable Emrys nothing but an unorganized mess now. “And you must return to Camelot.” 

“I need to help Arthur.” 

“Grief is not a beast you can defeat for the prince,” Adhara provided her wise and calloused insight. 

Merlin spun around, “He is my friend.” His tone was final and unflinching. She could see he would have done anything for Arthur, regardless of destiny. 

“Yes. We must always be kind to our friends.” 

“I’m sorry,” he softened a bit as he looked at her, “but I have to go now. The sooner I get there the better.” 

Adhara knew the day he parted from the camp was inevitable, but she felt it was too soon. But maybe this could serve as another teaching opportunity. “I can help you reach the prince faster than you could on foot.” 

“How?” 

“There are many options really,” she said turning to leave the tent, “you can choose which one you’d like. But first you must calm yourself, or nothing I can teach you will work.” She knew he wouldn’t like that so she scurried out of the tent as fast as she could. All that patience they had been honing would come in handy right now, Merlin had to be cool headed if he wanted to really do what was best for Arthur. 

She waited in her tent for him, readying the materials she would need if he chose to let her help, which he no doubt would. 

“Adhara?” came Merlin’s voice from outside, hesitant and urgent all at once. 

“Merlin.” The young man took his name as an invitation and stepped in wringing his hands and staring at her work. 

“I’m calm.” His voice didn’t help to prove the fact. 

“You must be level-headed,” she stated as if reading from a book of ancient instructions. 

Merlin sighed and took a step forward, “I’m shaken up, but I can do whatever is required of me. If you can help me reach Arthur faster, I’m willing to do the work.” 

Adhara stilled, now done with her prep. “Good. Now tell me, what exactly was your plan?” When no answer was given, she nodded her head as if that was exactly what she’d been expecting. “On foot it would take you at the very least four days to get to Camelot, and that is if conditions are favorable.” 

For the first time since his panic began Merlin seemed to see the holes in his plan, if you could even call it that. So much for practicing patience and good timing. “How do I get there faster?” 

“Well, one time proven way is a horse,” Adhara suggested. 

Merlin opened his mouth to say somethings snarky but nothing came out. Sure, it seemed obvious, but in his worry he hadn’t thought about it. 

“Or perhaps a dragon ride,” continued the old woman. 

“Now there’s an idea,” said Merlin, “it could cut the trip down to just a day, maybe less.” 

“That’s good too.” Adhara caught Merlin’s eye, “but what about …this instant?” 

Her question took a second to register and Merlin looked dumb as he stared at her with skepticism. “This instant?” 

“Do you recall the teleportation spell we used to deliver your letter to Hunith?” 

“Surely that wouldn’t work with a person,” said Merlin as if he knew more about magic than a druid elder. 

Adhara simply smiled and gestured toward her table, minerals and herbs set up, a book of magic open to the right page. “Typically it is only used to deliver small things, but I’m willing to wager that you’re powerful enough to move something as large as yourself.” 

Merlin raised one of his eyebrows in a way that Gaius would’ve been proud of. “It works on living beings?” 

“If it exists it can be moved. Although I will admit, I’ve never tried it myself.” 

The tent fell into silence as Merlin weigh his options, “It’s worth a try,” he finally said. Why not attempt the impossible yet again just to get to Arthur? 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Gaius hobbled over to the prince’s bed with Arthur held tightly by his side. Physically he was fine, but Gaius was a good enough physician to know that not all ailment was physical. He deposited Arthur in his bed and watched as the prince sat with haunted eyes. Gaius had watched Arthur go from a small and nervous boy to a self assured adult, watching him now was like being thrown back in time. He smoothed the blond fringe away from Arthur’s eyes and pushed him to lay down. 

“My father is dead,” said Arthur. 

Gaius lifted the duvet and draped it over Arthur, tucking him in as he would’ve when he was younger. “Yes.” 

“I hated him,” admitted the prince as he looked into Gaius’s eyes, “but I loved him too.” 

“I know.” 

“I hate him even more now,” he said, a pained edge threatening to cut off his speaking voice, “because now he’s dead and I don’t know how to grieve him. I don’t know if I’m allowed to mourn the death of a tyrant. It feels as if I don’t get to cry for him, because who am I to miss someone who caused the death and suffering of so many others?” 

Gaius himself could relate to a similar feeling. “I don’t know what to say, sire.” 

“Neither do I.” 

“Then say nothing,” the old man provided as he lay a paternal hand on Arthur’s forehead, “rest instead.” 

Arthur wanted to argue. How could he sleep now? Yet he found that the answer was quite simple, he could sleep now because he was exhausted. It seemed he’d been robbed of all the energy he possessed and he could not have moved an inch to save his own life. His eyes drooped closed and he fell into a restless slumber with one of his oldest caretakers by his side. 

Gaius watched Arthur for a few seconds then removed his hand from Arthur’s forehead. He needed to go and prep the kings body for the vigil, by tomorrow morning the news would be spreading wide and the only thing the royal household could do was to ready themselves for the change. He might be old, but he thought he could take some of the pressure off of Arthur’s young shoulders. The prince deserved to rest for now. 

He shuffled toward his tower, where the King's body would be awaiting him courtesy of a few strong guards. Arthur’s words stuck in Gaius’s mind. He didn’t know what the appropriate reaction was either. On one hand the reign of terror Uther raged over the land would be coming to the end. His and Arthur’s late night talks left no doubt in his mind that he was sympathetic toward magic, that he saw it for what it really was. On the other hand the loss was heavy because of the pain it brought Arthur, who Gaius considered family. Not to mention, once upon a time Uther and Gaius were friends. Not acquaintances or King and physician, but friends. It was for that who Gaius's heart withered and cried. 

At this time of night the halls were empty and the moon hung high in the sky. The quiet of the castle seemed apt as Gaius entered his little tower and spotted the body of King Uther Pendragon laying on his work table. It was strange to see such a powerful man be reduced to nothing more than a body. It was no different or more special than any of the other bodies Gaius had the misfortune of preparing. Uther lay with one of his arms hanging off the table, his mouth was open wide in that frightening manner that slack bodies so often do. 

The physician rolled up a cloth and carefully placed it underneath the king’s chin, closing his mouth to give him the decency that humans deserve. He placed the arm back onto the table and patted the cold hand. With a detachment that medical professionals must master for their own sanity Gaius set about collecting the various herbs and chemicals he would need to preserve and prepare the body for vigil. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Far from Camelot sat another healer carefully working away, but their patient was very much alive. Adhara smoothed a wet cloth over Merlin’s forehead and cheeks but the young man remained unresponsive. She’d used her magic to check him over in a deeper examination than medieval medicine would allow, and so she knew that Merlin was fine, but she couldn’t help the worry that drove her to grit her teeth. 

The spell had gone disastrously wrong, and she couldn’t help but feel culpable as it’d been her who suggested they try it in the first place. By all accounts it should’ve worked, there really wasn’t any reason why it shouldn’t have. That is there shouldn’t have been any reason, but Merlin would always remain Merlin, which meant that things would get messed up. On his very first try he muffed up the words and nothing at all happened. They had a laugh about it and Adhara read over each word carefully so that he could get the pronunciation right. 

“Have you got it now?” she asked. Merlin simply nodded his head, a serious look signalling he meant business this time around. They agreed to he would teleport to the other side of her tent, a few feet, just to make sure he could handle it before he tried anything too big. 

Merlin took a deep breath and said the words, this time his pronunciation was fluid and perfect. His eyes filled with gold and the crystals which he used to focus his energy began to glow. Adhara was sure she was about to witness a miracle, but then the crystals began to burst, which she hadn’t even known was possible. She tried calling to him but he only stood, his eyes gold and unseeing. She reached out to touch him but then he was gone from under her grasp. There was no great explosion of light and color, no crazy sound, only a blink and then he was gone as if he’d never been there at all. That would’ve been good, except Merlin did not reappear on the other side of her tent. 

“Merlin?” she said to the emptiness of her tent. 

**Emrys** she tried to speak directly into his mind. 

Suddenly startled noises came from the bonfire and she wasted no time. Running outside she saw Emrys. He seemed to be phasing in and out of existence at great speed. 

“Emrys!” she yelled and began to run toward him only to have him disappear and reappear in different spots over and over. 

“Adhara!” he called back, his voice coming to her from many directions at once it seemed. 

**Emrys. Think of one location. Then stop funneling magic into the spell. Concentrate.**

No answer. 

**Merlin. Concentrate.**

He did not reply. 

“Elder!” called a woman’s voice with desperation from behind her. Adhara turned to see a woman running out of her little tent. **It is Emrys. He is unconscious in my tent.**

As Elder that she was, Adhara commanded respect and so when she ordered that Merlin be taken back to her tent it was done. Adhara did not dare perform a levitation spell on him without knowing what it was that went so wrong and so two men carried him instead. 

Now he lay in her bed with a cold rag on his forehead. Adhara left it there to follow potentially more fruitful endeavors at her magical table, where something decidedly not magical was taking place. With care she mixed ammonium carbonate with alcohol and shook up the solution. It was then soaked up into a clean square of cloth and taken back to her patient. She held the rag close under Merlin’s nose and waited with bated breath. 

An exaggerated inhale tore through Merlin’s form and Adhara smiled, that was a good sign. One of his big hands came up and smacked the old woman’s remedy away as he sat up and began to cough. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Merlin.” 

“Dramatic?” he coughed out, “you’re trying to poison me.” 

“Who ever heard of a person dying from ammonia poisoning?” Adhara asked. What a silly thing to say. 

“What happened?” Merlin asked as he propped his feet on the ground and wrinkled his nose to calm the burning in his nostrils. 

“Evidently, you did something wrong” said Adhara sitting on an old rickety stool. Her words weren’t sugar coated, but they held no judgement either. 

Merlin looked at the old woman and narrowed his eyes, “That’s what we’re going with is it?” 

Adhara nodded as if it were the only thing to make sense. Merlin thought her and Arthur might get along. “Everything was all fine,” he began, “but once I said the incantation it … I don’t know how to explain it Adhara. It was as if the whole world opened to me. Every time I thought of or laid eyes on a new place I was taken there, and I couldn’t seem to stop. Couldn’t tear my mind away from the spell.” 

That was a peculiar problem to have, thought Adhara. Most magic users complained of not having enough power to do as they needed, Merlin here seemed to have too much for his own good. In a way it was a weakness, for if he could not control the extent of his spells then the magic owned him and not the other way around. She said as much. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that spell just yet,” said Merlin. He wasn’t too proud to admit there were things he was incapable of. 

Adhara squeezed one of Merlin’s thin arms and gave him a little smile, “Dragon ride it is then.” 

\----------------------------------------------

Arthur woke up to disorienting sunlight beaming in between his heavy curtains. The ray of light lay conveniently across his eyes and made him wince as soon as he regained consciousness. There was a strange sense of hollowness within him as he stared at the canopy above his bed. He seemed to be doing that a lot more these days. It was a rich red color, embroidered with shiny golden thread. He had all this wealth and luxury, and yet hurt got to him just like any other man. 

Vaguely he wondered what time it was, but found that he could not get up. It was not for lack of trying but each time he ordered himself to get up his body responded with apathy and remained plastered against his soft mattress. Yesterday he wept like a child at the loss of his father, now it felt like a strange distorted dream. 

The only way Arthur could tell time was passing was the way the sun ray crawled around on his bed as the sun in the sky changed positions. When the sun was high above in the sky and the beam planted surely upon his chest Arthur came to a painful conclusion. He did not miss his father, he missed the things he never got to have with him. There weren’t really any fond memories to look upon and cry about never happening again. Now with his father’s body out of his arms it was easier to tell what pained him so much was that any potential to be a father and son was gone along with him. It felt strange to mourn a person you saw everyday but never quite knew. Who’s validation you wanted more than anything but now that you had it, it was just empty words. For most of his life he loved his father the way any little boy does: blindly and totally. As he grew older he realized the man who he loved and the man who Uther was were totally different people. 

A timid knock sounded at the door and Arthur was yanked away from his emotional cocoon. “Pardon, sire,” came Georges servile tone. 

“Enter.” 

“Something for you to eat, sire. You must keep your strength up.” In his arms George carried with great steadiness a tray full of some of Arthur’s favorite breakfast foods. Thin slices of honeyed venison with poached eggs, thick slices of freshly made bread heaped on a plate, fresh strawberries succulent and red, and watered down wine to drink. 

“Thank you, George.” His servant seemed caught off guard by being thanked and the tray wobbled precariously as he set it down over Arthur’s lap. He wordlessly draped a napkin over Arthur's chest.

George stepped back and allowed Arthur to eat, although the prince did little more than move his food around a bit.

\-------------------------------------------------- 

With each flap of Kilgharrah’s expansive wings strong gusts of wind were kicked up and made it hard for Merlin to see. The warlock sat high on Kilgharrah’s shoulders with his eyes squinted and his fluffy hair flying in all directions. The great dragon hardly needed instruction from Merlin, in fact he didn’t take kindly to being given directions on flying, and so Merlin learned quickly how to be a polite passenger. After countless hours Kilgharrah finally began his descent and Merlin’s stomach seemed to fly up to his throat at the dip and fall through the air. His red scarf blew up and plastered itself against his face blocking his sight completely but he had enough sense to keep holding on with both hands and leave the scarf. 

Kilgharrah was swooping upward now, Merlin’s stomach bottoming out. Clawed feet touched the ground with a thump and the flight was over. Merlin slid off of Kilgharrah, his legs strangely wobbly. 

“This is as far as you ordered me to take you,” said Kilgharrah. 

“Yes, I see,” answered Merlin distractedly as he shook out tense muscles and winced at the feeling of chafed thighs. He patted his hair down with little success. 

He finally gave up and looked at his dragon. His sides were expanding with great lungfuls of air and his wings twitched with exhaustion. “Thank you,” Merlin said sincerely and placed his hand against Kilgharrah’s cheek, “how do you feel?” 

“I am not as young as I once was,” admitted Kilgharrah. He blinked slowly and settled himself heavily upon the ground. “I must stay here and rest. Have a safe trek, young warlock.” 

Merlin eyed the creature and nodded, “I will. Be safe as well, Kilgharrah.” 

The dragon huffed a puff of smoke which Merlin took as a “whatever you say mighty lord” so he took off. He was in the clothes he’d left in so long ago, but the fit was slightly tighter, who knew eating well and sleeping made for a healthier person? Now accustomed to robes the clothes felt confining, but he didn’t think he wanted to meet Arthur while wearing a robe, he’d be walking right into a myriad of jokes. If Arthur was even in a joking mood. Not to mention the entire returning on pain of death business. Perhaps robe jokes should be the least of his concerns. 

\--------------------------------------------------

It was later in the day and everyone had been avoiding Arthur like the plague while simultaneously observing him and whispering madly. By the time Arthur left his chambers the first time that day it was all the rage that Uther Pendragon passed just hours before, during the cover of night. A casket had been set up in the throne room, for two weeks vigil would be held and Camelot would mourn their late King, but tonight was Arthur’s night. 

With George's help he dressed in ceremonial white and walked to the room that held his father’s remains. He was meant to go in there a prince and come out a king, but no one had told him how. George walked with him to the end of the hall, forever ready to serve. Arthur raised his hand and stopped the servant in his tracks. 

“I’ll go the rest of the way on my own.” Because he was all alone, wasn’t he? 

He opened the door to the throne room and walked across the fine floors with bare feet toward the casket which held Uther’s body. He stopped several feet before it and got down on one knee. Here he was meant to stay for hours, and then come out completely cured of any sadness while simultaneously gaining the knowledge of being a good ruler to his people. After all, men didn’t feel things and mourning one’s own father for too long was a sign of weakness in a king. He was meant to be the kingdom's rock.

He watched the candles around the casket burn and thought about Uther telling him a king rules alone. The empty throne room seemed to agree. He was without a mother, without his best friend, without his sister, and now without his father. It seemed the only person he had left was Guinevere. 

“Do you think Gwen would marry me?” Arthur asked his father. He didn’t get a reply. 

“I think you were wrong about marrying a noble. Someone wise once told me a marriage borne of love was worthy of ruling over Camelot.” Uther’s casket sat unmoving. 

“I also think … that magic is not the evil you made it out to be.” He let the words fade, waiting for Uther’s ghost to come and murder him for his treasonous words, but no such thing happened. 

“I don’t wish to dishonor you father,” Arthur said, hanging his head, “but I fear you’ve already done that yourself.” 

The candles burned. And Uther did not talk. And Arthur tried not to cry. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Walking the halls of the castle felt foreign and familiar all at once. Merlin realized he almost missed it. However, what he did not miss was sneaking around with potential death breathing down his neck. He peeked around a corner and his eyes grew wide as he spotted two guards in the middle of an animated conversation. He doubled back a few steps and hid in a shallow alcove behind a dusty piece of wall tapestry. 

“The entire area is restricted,” said one of the guards, “No one crosses the entrance to that hall until we have the orders.”

“How long does the mourning last?” asked his partner. 

“Till sunrise, although I’ve heard of these things taking up to two days.” 

“I couldn’t be on guard duty for two days straight.” 

The first guard snorted, “You couldn’t guard your own arse if you had to.” 

“Oi! The king is dead, watching your ruddy mouth!” chided his partner and punched him in the arm. 

They passed without noticing Merlin at all, which was a testament to how terrible they were at guarding things since one of his boots was completely visible. Merlin tip-toed away from them and turned to the left. _To the throne room it is._

Surprisingly those two guards were the only thing stopping anyone from getting to the throne room. It was both a relief and a great concern to Merlin. He walked up to the door but knew he couldn’t knock or go in. He’d simply wait out here for the prince, so he wouldn’t have to be alone. 

He sat down against the bottom of a staircase. He would sit right here and if anyone came along he would just hide behind the railing of the stairs and use an invisibility spell if needed. Then when Arthur came out he would say something very eloquent and comforting. He refused to believe Adhara when she said grief was not a beast he could slay for Arthur. Up until now he’d defeated every threat to him, he had to at least try with this one too. 

The hall was almost dark now, only a few torches here and there. The wind was chilly and it made Merlin huddle further into his brown jacket. It actually wasn't too bad. His eyes began to droop until finally thirty-six hours of no rest at all got to him. His head lulled to the side in sleep, and just like that he was gone. 

\-------------------------------------------

Birds chirped as the sun began to rise in the sky, its rays shining through the stained glass windows and painting the floor with color. Arthur had mourned Uther through the night. He did not feel miraculously changed, although he did feel better. There was a sense of closure now that hadn’t been there before. He thought he could do it. He could step out of this room a king, and rule alone. 

He stood and his knees cracked. He brushed any dirt off his white breeches and gave the casket one last good look. “Goodbye, Uther.” 

Arthur turned and walked toward the door, refusing to let himself look back. At the door he put on his boots methodically, stalling before he left this room a new Arthur Pendragon. Finally he could stall no more and so with a deep breath he pushed one of the large doors open. The light from the throne room poured into the hall and bathed it in sunlight as if to present him with a great surprise. 

The surprise was a body on the ground. It took Arthur’s brain a few seconds to catch up. No one was supposed to be here, so why was that person here? Also please for the love of the Gods let that person be alive. He walked up to the body and was thankful to find the ribs rising and falling with breath. Old brown jacket, coal black hair sticking out from the collar … giant ears peeking out from the fluff of hair. 

“Merlin?” he breathed. 

The bundle on the floor wiggled and then suddenly sprang up with shock. It was definitely Merlin. 

“Arthur,” said Merlin in his stupid deep voice still muddled with sleep. Arthur could have cried at the sound. 

Instead he opted for a wide-eyed, “What are you doing here?”

Merlin seemed to search for the right words and then finding none looked at Arthur and said the truth. “I did not want you to feel that you were alone.” 

Just like that everything that Arthur had made himself believe in that throne room was crushed to pieces. _Arthur was not alone_. He stared at Merlin with his wild hair and sleepy blue eyes and found that a great wave of warmth and fondness came crashing down upon his heart. 

They looked at each other, their eyes speaking all the things they didn’t quite know how to say. “Stay a little while longer,” Arthur found himself saying. 

“Always,” Merlin answered readily.

It’d been a nice idea and all, but thanks to Arthur’s orders the previous night the hall was being guarded and at some point competent guards had taken over the shift leaving Arthur in a predicament. Just because his father passed did not mean the order of Merlin’s execution on sight wouldn’t be carried out. Sadly when Merlin and Arthur got together they lost about half of their IQ. 

They were about halfway down the hall walking in the open and trying to keep it together before the sound of footsteps alerted them to the fact other people existed. Before he had time to think Arthur was being drawn into an alcove by Merlin. 

“What the hell are y-” Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence before Merlin was covering his mouth with a large hand. Not only were they not hidden well, but they were squished against one another, and truly Arthur wasn’t prepared to deal with the ways Merlin confused him today. Before he could say something to that effect however Merlin muttered something under his breath and his eyes flashed that forbidden color. The gasp that left Arthur’s mouth had him glad for the palm that muffled the sound. 

Arthur understood why Merlin had to hide, but not why he had to hide. If anything he could’ve ordered the guards away, but as he stood chest to chest with Merlin staring into his deep blue eyes he thought maybe it was best to stay here, at least for a bit longer. 

The guards passed by them and gave no indication of seeing two grown men squished into an alcove in broad daylight. They rounded the corner and Arthur finally jumped away from Merlin. 

“What did you do?” Arthur asked, wiping at his mouth as if he were angry Merlin’s hand had been resting there. He wasn’t. 

“I saved our hides,” hissed Merlin. 

“My hide is not in need of saving.” 

“Well mine is.” The mood sobered after that and for a second Arthur didn’t know what to do. He was king and Merlin was still running. 

“Get to my chambers. Wait for me there.” Arthur ordered and began walking after the guards.

“What?” 

“Stop being insolent, Merlin!” huffed Arthur and his stomach did a little flip at being able to yell at Merlin once more. 

Grumbling sounded from behind Arthur as he walked away. Something about ungrateful prats and riding a dragon for nothing. Underneath the depressing weight of all that happened Arthur could feel a distant part of him stirring with amusement. 

\---------------------------------------- 

Arthur went off to handle the open vigil of the king with the council members and to inform them that he would like absolute privacy for the day. No one dared to push him too much and gave him his space. He almost felt guilty for feeling an underlying sense of happiness about seeing Merlin, especially on a day like this. 

He marched through the hall once the quick meeting was over and there ran in to Gwen. He didn’t know what to expect, but their awkward shuffle was not it. 

“Arthur,” she began. Her eyes were full of empathy for his pain, although not quite. They were full of empathy from the point of view of someone who had lost a father, the only difference being they loved each other right. Arthur hadn’t lost a father, he never really had one. 

“Guinevere.” He forced a smile onto his face, a polite and patient thing. He was surprised when he found he wished this interaction could end instead of wishing to be comforted by his supposed love. 

She mistook his discomfort for stoicism and being the kind human she was she pulled him into a hug. Arthur stood stiffly for a few seconds before letting the tension in his shoulders release and pulled her closer. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. “I have to go now,” and tenderly parted from her. 

“Where to?” she asked ready to help. 

Arthur couldn’t lie, this was her friend just as much as his, “Merlin is here.”

Gwen gasped and looked around to see if anyone heard despite the fact that they were alone. He felt a sudden unease. Merlin was her friend, but he did not want to share him. Not right now. He wanted to be selfish and cherish the time he had with a loved one with no interruptions. He was sure she would ask to see him too and he was prepared to let her take his time but she never asked. She looked at him intently, as if seeing and reading all of his fears. 

“You have to go to Merlin?” she asked, a surprising look of realization washing over her features. 

He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “I have to go to Merlin, Guinevere.” 

She tilted her head in a sweet gesture, her eyes bright. She got on to her tip toes and planted a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, “Then go to Merlin.” 

Arthur looked down at her and knew he loved her then, just not in the way he thought he did before. He was the one to hug her now and it was the most sincere moment they’d had together. As they parted it felt as if they'd come to some sort of understanding, and the feeling made Arthur's stomach flutter. When they walked away from one another Arthur felt he was on his way to something significant. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Merlin walked restlessly around Arthur’s rooms observing the minute ways George changed the order of the rooms. It was all wrong, why would he put the comb there? And were those fresh flowers? George was spoiling Arthur rotten. He was in the process of snooping around Arthur’s writing desk when the man himself burst into the chambers. Merlin jumped away from the desk as if scalded and looked sheepishly at Arthur. 

Arthur gave him a stern look and Merlin felt a jolt of happiness shoot up his spine. It was a thrill to be in this kind of silent battle with Arthur again. 

“What were you doing?” asked Arthur as he neared Merlin. 

“Sorry, sire?” Merlin said as if Arthur had spoken incoherent nonsense. 

“ _Mer_ lin,” growled Arthur in that way that only he did. 

“ _Clot_ pole,” imitated Merlin. 

Arthur could no longer hold his laughter back and his face broke into that boyish grin that Merlin loved to see. His laugh was soft and tired, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Merlin bit his lip and stared at Arthur like a loon, just happy to witness Arthur break free of his sullen mood for a second. 

The prince walked over to Merlin and looked at him expectantly, “I need to change out of these clothes.” 

“Still don’t know how to say please?” asked Merlin with exasperation, but he was already reaching to undo Arthur’s cloak. 

“Still don’t know how to-” Arthur’s retort was cut short as Merlin unceremoniously yanked his white tunic over his head and left it tangled there for a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t until Arthur started flailing his arms that Merlin had mercy and pulled it off all the way. 

“Merlin! You can’t do that to me, I’m the prince!” came the automatic reprimand. The smile that had lit Arthur’s eyes dimmed as he realized that was not the case anymore. For more reasons than one. He was technically the king, and even then he was no king of Merlin’s for Merlin was banished and no longer a citizen of Camelot.

Merlin reached out and laid a pale hand over a tanned shoulder. “No. You are my king, just as you always have been, and always will be.” 

Suddenly Merlin’s hand was too hot on his bare shoulder and his eyes were too intense to look into. Arthur cleared his throat and tried to stop the flush from rising up his bare chest. Merlin’s eyes darted toward his hand like he didn’t know if it was allowed to be there anymore. Damn it, Merlin was adorable, and oh so clueless. 

In a moment of madness Arthur moved in and captured Merlin’s lip in a kiss. Merlin seemed to melt against Arthur, his hands resting on Arthur’s bare chest. A broken sound spilled from Merlin as Arthur wrapped his hands around his waist and pulled him closer. It was as their tongues met that a jolt seemed to pass through Merlin and he pulled back, his face full of concern. 

“Arthur, what are you doing?” he panted 

“I’m kissing you,” replied Arthur and leaned back in to stop wasting time only to have Merlin turn away from the kiss. Perhaps it was because he wasn't thinking clearly but Arthur began to debate if it would be alright to kiss his now visible neck. 

“Why?” Merlin asked and suddenly Arthur thought he’d gotten things all wrong. Of course Merlin didn’t love him anymore! It had been over a month since the confession and - “Not that I don’t like you … you know how I feel,” Merlin mended, “but you’re going to marry Gwen!” He finished by forcing himself away from Arthur as if he were the one being unfaithful to Gwen. 

“I'm not so sure that's happening anymore,” Arthur said letting Merlin have his space. 

The news seemed to shock Merlin. “Then you’ve had two heart breaks in a short period of time,” said Merlin. 

“No.” 

“And you’re confused.” 

“Not about you.” 

Merlin stopped talking and gave Arthur a pained look. He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t look at Arthur, “I know you’re hurting, but please, don’t make me think that my love is reciprocated if it’s not. Please. Don’t.” 

It was then that Arthur saw how hard this had all been for Merlin. He knew it was because he was so emotionally raw right now that he could not contain his emotions for Merlin, but he knew the strength of whatever it was he felt for Merlin would be hard to control even on his most stable day. Still, he thought it only fair to sort himself out before he hurt Merlin. If he couldn’t even name what it was he felt toward his best friend, then maybe he shouldn’t lead him on. 

He approached quietly and took one of Merlin’s hands in his own, the younger man’s breath hitching in his chest. Arthur held Merlin’s chin between thumb and forefinger and urged him to open his eyes. “Merlin. I’m sorry,” he said softly into the space between them. “I don’t know where I stand in life anymore. Everything is changing, and my most valued friend is gone, and please don’t ever tell him this because he’s an insufferable dollop-head but I really do need him with me.” 

Merlin’s eyes shone brightly and he spoke with his throat tight, “Sounds like a great friend, sire.” 

“He is,” Arthur agreed, “and I would never want to hurt him. So I’m going to get myself sorted, then I’m going to get my kingdom sorted, and bring him home.” 

A choked sound escaped from Merlin’s throat and a red flush was sneaking over his cheeks. “I’m sure he can’t wait.” 

With Merlin’s hand firmly in Arthur’s and the visible flush on the prince’s chest, it was impossible to deny their changing dynamic. For a moment in time it was just them two, and it didn’t matter what they were changing into, Arthur was just glad to have Merlin by his side again. Merlin for his part bit his lip and tried to still the shaking that materialized in his limbs with Arthur looking at him like that. 

The prince smiled and let go of Merlin’s hand, sticking to his promise of not leading him on until he knew what this all was. “I still need to change,” he informed Merlin. 

“Oh! Right, yes,” rambled Merlin as his eyes raked over Arthur’s chest and then snapped away. 

Together they dressed Arthur hastily, reveling in being able to do this once more. Merlin did his job flawlessly, which means as clumsily as possible to bother Arthur, and Arthur moved about to inconvenience Merlin. Arthur chuckled as Merlin yanked a fresh tunic over his head roughly enough to make Arthur stumble. Arthur lunged toward Merlin and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him close to put him in headlock. 

“Arthur!” he croaked and started to push against his torso, the man immovable and firm.

It was as they stumbled around the room play fighting that a strange noise made them stop fumbling about. It was a muffled sound, like many voices speaking at once. The sound came over and over, a pattern quickly forming. 

Arthur walked over to the window and pushed the stained glass open. The front steps of the castle were full of people who had come to the vigil. The people spilled out onto the court yard and formed small groups. A man stood upon a makeshift stage of produce crates and spoke with a rough voice. 

“Our king was murdered!” 

A few yelled in agreement while others turned to pay attention. 

“A few weeks ago he was as strong as ever.” 

People were gathering around him, the crowd getting thicker. The palace guards began to walk toward the man who was stirring up trouble. 

“Then after defeating the sorceress Morgana he dies? This was no death by natural causes! Our king was killed by sorcery!” 

The crowd began to get rowdy, some hollering in agreement and anger. 

“Sorcery has finally hit at the heart of Camelot, just as our king warned us! We must fight back!” 

The crowd roared and cheered. 

“Death to magic!” He yelled and pumped a fist in the air. 

“Death to magic! Death to magic! Death to magic!” the crowd chanted back. The guards could not push through the crowd and the man jumped off of his crate and disappeared among the people, the damage already done. 

Arthur watched in horror as his people chanted for the death of something he now knew to be no threat. He closed the window before anyone could see him looking and whipped around to face Merlin. He stood away from the window so that no one could see him, all humor drained from his face. There was a look of hurt creeping into his features. 

“They don’t know any better,” said Arthur. 

Merlin looked pale, his eyes wide, “Do you?” 

“I want to. Gaius has taught me much since you left, but I need to know more if I’m ever to change the way people think.” 

“You’ve been talking with Gaius?” Merlin asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Oh, yes,” he answered, “and you’re in big trouble. I’ve heard about all the crazy things you’ve done, you’re even dumber than I thought.” 

Merlin snorted and shook his head softly. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with Arthur, “you know I can’t stay, right?” 

Arthur deflated a bit. He didn’t want Merlin to leave again. “You could hide here,” said Arthur, “maybe turn into an old man again.” 

“You know about that?” asked Merlin with wide eyes. 

“I knew I recognized your eyes!” 

Merlin sobered again and shook his head. “I can’t stay, Arthur. I won’t hide. It isn’t fair to other magic users for me to get special treatment. If they can’t stay, then I won’t either.” 

It felt as if someone was sitting on Arthur’s chest. For the second time in his life he was having to let Merlin go. He wanted to beg him to stay, thought he might even do it if Arthur made it clear he missed him. Outside the chanting was still going strong and his heart seemed to squeeze tighter each time he heard the hateful mantra. Merlin wasn’t safe here, and he was right, he shouldn’t have to hide. Not while Arthur was king. 

Arthur walked forward and hugged Merlin tight, burying his face in the man’s neck for a second. Merlin’s arms came around his waist and squeezed him tight. Arthur pulled back and held Merlin arms length away, a hard look coming over his face. “You better get going. I don’t want you traveling in the dark.” 

Merlin’s clenched his jaw and stood straighter, every inch the brave and strong willed man Arthur knew him to be. “I’ll be safe.” Merlin leaned in and Arthur’s heart sped up thinking Merlin might kiss him, but instead the young man stopped a few inches short and lifted a dark eyebrow, “I’ve got a dragon.” Then he pulled away and walked toward the door leaving Arthur to stand in the middle of his chambers with that baffled look only Merlin could put on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do y'all feel about the length of this chapter? I shortened it a bit because I felt it was getting too long. My plan for the next few chapters has a lot going on, which means the next chapters will probably be this length or even longer. Are y'all cool with that or would you prefer me to split it up into more chapters so the wait isn't as long and you don't get a giant dump of story all at once?


	8. The Villain's Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see what the bad guys are up to with a little bit of Arthur and Merlin sprinkled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back! Sorry for the long wait for this new chapter but I just couldn't seem to get it right.
> 
> I wrote like a 10k word chapter for chapter 8, then decided I hated it and scrapped the entire thing, only to repeat that process two more times. Finally I wrote this version which is totally different. I still hate it but I refuse to write it all over again. Writing is pain.
> 
> Enjoy the products of my suffering!

Morgause walked with a steady gait through the stone halls of her fortress. It was almost three months since she was first run through. For a normal person such a wound meant death, or if someone got especially lucky many months of recovery and a lifetime of limited range of motion, but Morgause had never considered herself normal. She was adept at healing magic and Morgana was not far behind, together they patched her up and by the beginning of the third month Morgause could not stay in bed a moment more. She would not deny the pain that the scar tissue caused, but pain was something she could deal with. Now up and about, there was nothing holding her from brining Camelot down to its knees, if anything the dull ache the wound left behind was a motivator. 

Her speedy recovery and current destination left her with about as much of a cheery disposition as Morgause was capable of which was really just a quirk to the side of her mouth. Her dear sister had been there to not only heal her, but to plan with her the most wretched ways to make Arthur Pendragon pay for the pain he’d caused them both. Morgana was currently in the process of bringing one aspect of their plan to life in her workroom. 

She walked into the large room Morgana had chosen for its space and light. There was a workstation in the far left corner consisting of two wooden tables and beside it a burning iron cauldron. There were lines of string hanging on the wall to her left, each with bundles and bundles of drying herbs. Shelves stood in rows as if in a library yet instead of books they contained increasingly disturbing substances. Precisely behind the second shelf a bent over Morgana studied the glass jars to find the needed ingredient. She tapped her chin with an index finger as she read over the Latin labels. Her eyes lit up and she snatched up a jar containing frog eyes with a triumphant “Aha!” 

“I take it things are going well?” teased Morgause. 

“Sister!” said Morgana as a loving smile stretched her lips. She shook the jar making the eyeballs jiggle and roll around inside, “So far so good.” 

Morgana popped the lid off of the jar and reached in to pick up a few of the squishy spheres. She sprinkled a handful of them into the bubbling substance like a chef garnishing a delicious meal. Morgause leaned against a grey wall and watched with narrowed eyes as Morgana disappeared behind the furthest shelf for a few seconds and then popped up with a sinister smile that exposed her teeth. Morgana raised an eyebrow and shook the glass jar filled with a thick yellowish liquid before pouring it into the mix causing a hissing sound to explode from her concoction. 

Now Morgause stood and peeked into the cauldron, the liquid taking on a purplish hue, ”Was that snakeroot extract?” 

“It certainly was,” replied Morgana as she coaxed the liquid to swirl with a flash of golden eyes. “It has taken me a few batches to obtain the right potency, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one … pass me the dried marigold behind you.”

Morgause passed the plant and watched Morgana crumble the dry petals in. A heady odor rose from the cauldron. Surprisingly the strange concoction had a sweet and pleasing odor. “Oh sister, I knew I loved you with good reason.” 

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Morgana and she turned to look at Morgause. “Then will you help your beloved sister imbue her witchy potion with maddening anger and paranoia?”

“Anything for you,” she said sarcastically and came to stand next to the cauldron. With glowing eyes the women chanted together. Their enchantment rose from deep within their gut, their own feelings spilling over into the liquid. Morgause watched as the fire flared higher and higher licking the sides of the cauldron and causing the liquid to hiss. She listened carefully to Morgana’s words, they were vile, and Morgause couldn’t be prouder. This potion was a beautiful solution of just about every negative thought and feeling they could conceive of. They finished the enchantment with a shouted word and a cloud of blue smoke exploded from the cauldron, surrounding the two sisters. The potion was so potent it felt as if the very smoke whispered words of upset in Morgause’s ears. 

“It’s amazing,” whispered Morgause. “They will regret making you their enemy, dear sister.” 

Morgana looked at Morgause through the smoke, her eyes shined with satisfaction. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

In Camelot something as equally moving was happening to a young Knight by the name of Mordred. It had been some time since he’d chosen to fight with Arthur against Morgana who at one time had been a sort of mother to him. This is why he was out on patrol with a band of other knights when they came upon a group of people who seemed to be living in the woods. He sensed no magic and never saw the chaos that would ensue once they came into contact. 

Mordred was near the back making polite conversation with a fellow knight when a shout of “Halt!” was heard from the front of the formation. There was the familiar whistle of arrows flying through the air and everything from there was somewhat of a blur as everyone jumped into action. The only thing devastatingly clear to Mordred was a woman among the chaos. 

She had dirty hair and fierce eyes that refused to back down while she fought against a knight with impressive dexterity. His sword came down but she parried it with a maneuver of her own. Her blade swept against his thigh and he stumbled back a few paces. She went on offense and her sword rained down upon the man almost twice her size. The knight was seriously injured, blood wetting the leg of his breeches, but he was far from giving up. He lunged toward her and grazed her leg with his own blade. Suddenly the loud _thwack_ of an arrow cracked and the knight fell forward, the arrow sticking out of his neck. Her eyes remained hard as she looked at his body. She looked nothing like she used to but Mordred would know her anywhere. It was Kara, and once he’d loved her fiercely. 

He didn’t stop to think for a single second as he ran toward her and shielded her from anything that could cause her harm. Arm in arm he dragged her away until they found themselves in a nearby cave. Mordred was still just a boy and so he had little experience in love of any kind which may have skewed the way he saw the girl standing before him. 

She was not really a girl, she was a woman. She wasn’t sweet and bubbly like she was when they ran together as children hand in hand picking flowers. Now there was a hard edge to the way she stood and there was a distance between them that spoke of a lifetime lived without him. Mordred, however, didn’t see that. 

It was as if she’d run to him with watery eyes and a scraped knee all over again. His magic wasn’t overly strong and Kara herself had barely any to speak of, but he healed her as much as his skills would allow. 

“Thank you,” she finally said when his magic dulled the pain. Perhaps for a flash they were both kids again and she too saw a sweet little boy with black curls and a tooth missing when he smiled, but only for a second and then she could only see the red cape around his shoulders once more. 

“He’s not as he seems,” said Mordred when he noticed her eyes. 

“Tell that to the people who are being slaughtered by his knights as we speak.” 

“They attacked first,” argued Mordred. 

“They are tired of being afraid.” 

No one spoke for a few moments and then Mordred broke the stony silence, “You can’t walk on that leg. Stay here and I’ll get medical supplies. I’ll come back during the night.” 

She never answered him, only turned toward the wall and gingerly held her leg. He didn’t know what to say and so he said nothing and left instead. She thought him to be a bad man now, but he would prove to her that the cloak he wore was an honor that came with the responsibility to protect. As he walked away from the cave he knew he was betraying Arthur but he couldn’t feel sorry for it. He still loved Kara and he was willing to do whatever it took to keep her safe. 

He reappears as the struggle is ending. On the ground lay people from both sides, the knight Mordred was speaking to before with an arrow through the temple and laying with open eyes. He helps to round up bodies and count their losses, wanders into the forest and pretends to look for the people he knows are once druids turned rebels. No one finds the lucky few who escaped and they mount their dead on their horses before heading back to Camelot. Mordred looks back once toward the cave no one neared and speaks. 

**I’ll return for you, Kara.**

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Their return incites shock from the citizens they pass, people run off to tell the unfortunate mothers about the loss of their sons. The king is not pleased by the news. 

“Why did they attack?” Arthur’s stern voice washes over the party of knights once they’ve all been herded into the council chambers. 

“They were druids,” says one of the knights with black hair and down turned eyebrows. 

The King stiffens for a second before making eye contact with the man, “And just what’s that supposed to mean?” 

The men feel the shift in tension and distance themselves minutely from the knight, he however doesn’t back down. “They’re magic users, sire,” his voice bordering on condescension, “it’s what they do.” 

Mordred bites his tongue and looks down at his boots. Arthur leans forward and rests his palms on the table they stand around. “The druids are a peaceful people,” he says with a chillingly even voice, “they have never attacked before. So I ask again, why did they attack?” 

No one knows the answer, and Mordred stays quiet. The King sets his jaw and looks around the room switching into his role as leader. “There is not enough daylight left today, but tomorrow at first light you will return to the area and search it thoroughly. If there is any clue as to why they attacked you will find it.” Arthur begins to walk away before stopping and turning back, “If you find one of the druids you are not to kill them. Bring them back to me instead.” 

That is not what Uther would’ve ordered them to do, but Arthur was not Uther and the order is not unreasonable so the knights nod and respectfully wait until Arthur leaves to slump their shoulders and look around at one another. Mordred turns and leaves as well, if they’re returning he needs to get to Kara first. He sneaks over to Gaius’s tower and steals the supplies he will need to wrap Kara’s leg and numb the pain. The old man is nowhere to be seen and Emrys has been gone for some time so the petty theft is overwhelmingly easy. He rides out before any of the other knights and spurs his horse to move as quickly as possible. 

There are only a few more hours of daylight left but Mordred needs to take care of Kara if she is to survive. Arthur is not a bad man, but magic is still illegal and there’s a chance if Kara is caught she will be executed. He slows his horse to a trot as he nears the mouth of the cave and dismounts, bringing the satchel full of supplies with him. He pats the horse’s side and wills it to stay nearby. 

**Kara? I’ve returned.**

**I’m here** she replied weakly. 

She was laying on the ground curled in on herself. There was no fire going and the cave was cold and dark. He knelt next to her and checked her over to make sure her leg was the only place she was injured. A smile appeared on her pink lips and his heart leapt in his chest. 

“I’m fine, Mordred.” She sat up and winced as her leg complained about the movement. “You came back,” she said and there was a hint of disbelief in her voice. 

“Of course I did,” He answered and got to work. He started a fire which provided much needed warmth to her. Only when the walls of the cave were illuminated with a warm orange glow did he go near her and politely push the dress up her thigh. She sat still and soundless as he cleaned the nasty gash. She never flinched, only watched him intently and spoke of memories she had of their youth. Time skated by as they talked about better times. 

Mordred looked at his handiwork as he sat back on his heels. He looked Kara over and took in just how tired she looked. 

“I’ve been on the run for a long time,” she said as if he’d spoken his thoughts. 

“Why did your people attack?” he asked looking into her eyes. 

“My people?” she repeated with a joyless smile crossing her face. 

“Our people.” 

“I told you. They’re done being afraid. Uther hunted the druids like dogs don’t act like you don't know. Now you hide among them but not all of us have such a luxury, and even if we did we would not take it. I refuse to hide and so did they. It was them or the knights.” 

“It wasn’t,” he argued feverishly, “Arthur would never order his knights to attack the druids. He knows we’re peaceful.” 

“They didn’t seem to have much trouble doing it earlier. You’re blinded by whatever it is you see in him. Perhaps his hatred isn’t as obvious as his father’s but don’t be fooled into thinking it isn’t there. Otherwise, why would I have to hide in this cave?” 

Mordred didn’t have a good answer to that. Arthur was not as aggressive as his father when it came to fighting against magic … but he didn’t exactly give them freedom either. Kara smirked in bitter triumph. 

“You can’t stay here anymore,” he said, “the knights will be back in the morning. They have orders to arrest any druid they find here.” 

“And you still serve him?” Her voice rising in pitch with anger. 

“You need to leave tonight, get as far as you can with the little time you have. You can’t walk but you should be able to ride even if it's at a slow pace, you can have my horse.” 

He could see it in her eyes that she wanted to say no, Kara had never been a quitter and he doubted she would want to run now. He held his breath in fear and then finally she spoke, “I’ll take your horse, but I am not running from Arthur Pendragon. I am going to find whoever is left of my tribe and we will be back.” 

“Kara don’t say things like that.” 

She struggled to her feet and used the wall of the cave to support herself, using the wall she walked toward the mouth of the cave. Mordred stood and took her elbow, gingerly taking her to his horse. He gripped her waist and hoisted her onto the horses back. Her face scrunched in pain as her leg was jostled but she grunted through the pain and situated herself. The sun was gone now and the high points of her face were lit only by the distant fire near the entrance of the cave. 

“Thank you, Mordred,” she said and it sounded sincere and like a final goodbye. 

He nodded at a loss for words and watched as she tugged on the reins and the horse turned before slowly trotting away. It was a bittersweet feeling watching her go, but as her form disappeared into the darkness of the night he felt the knot in his stomach undo itself. He’d kept her safe. 

\---------------------------------------------------------

Under the cover of darkness Mordred and Kara were not the only people sneaking around. A cloaked form sat atop a galloping horse. His eyes burned like two miniature suns as did the eyes of the stallion he rode. He spelled the creature’s vision so it could see the structures around them as clearly as if there was sun. For his part he mapped the path ahead of them and headed toward Camelot with terrifying precision. When he neared the city he tied his horse to a tree and fed him an apple. The gold died away from the animal’s eyes and the figure leaned forward and kissed its nose. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he spoke in a low voice and slinked through the remaining trees. 

Two guards stood watch at the gates of the city chatting idly to pass the time; puffs of their breath visible in the cool night air. He walked out from behind a tree and moved smoothly with his hood still up. 

“You there,” called the guard on the right side of the gates, “State your name.” 

“My, my, is that any way to speak to a friend?” he said as he neared and pulled the hood down. Light brown hair curled to past his ears in an unruly mess. Dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight with unprovoked mirth. 

The guard knit his eyebrows together and leaned forward to inspect the face. “Do I know you?” 

“You do now,” he replied with pleasant cheer in his voice. 

The left guard stepped forward with a hand on the hilt of his sword, “That’s far enough. State your name.” 

The man didn’t listen and continued his slow approach. 

“What is your business in Camelot?” asked the first guard. 

“For the right price my business is whatever my employer wants it to be. She isn’t overly fond of this place. I can see why, you’re all very uptight.” 

The guards unsheathed their swords and began stalking toward the man. They were a few paces away when he lifted his hands and sent them flying in opposite directions. They hit the ground with different sounds of pain and struggled to get up. 

“Swefn,” the man growled and the knights fell into the dirt in deep sleep. He walked into the kingdom uninterrupted and made his way to the rising sun. It was exactly where Morgana said it would be and she was right in saying there would be a rowdy bunch inside despite the late hour. For eighty gold pieces and an amulet of illusion the man would begin a war, but he didn’t know that. He wasn’t particularly angry about Camelot’s past, or even its present. Although, he couldn’t claim to be innocent, he knew people would suffer because of this job but other’s suffering was not his concern. The pay was good and all he had to do was pour a potion into barrels full of mead, it was too good to pass up. 

Morgana wanted to infect all of Camelot with the potion but she could hardly get them all to consume it, there was not enough to go around and it had both an odor and a flavor. For this reason the idea of poisoning Camelot’s water source with it would be unusable, it would be tracked too quickly. She made two more batches after the one she made with Morgause until her concoction was something to be marveled at.

First a host had to ingest it and its effects would mimic an illness in the way they grew and spread. After a few days through contact with other infected people all of Camelot would be festering with Morgana’s potion and its effects. The enchantment would latch onto any inkling of negative emotion or thought and magnify it, nurture it until passing negativity became all consuming. Within days the kingdom would be filled with maddening citizens. No man can keep control of an entire uprising kingdom, not even Arthur. 

The man poured vials of the purple potion into the barrels of alcohol waiting to be gulped down by a bunch of drunken idiots and stuck around in the tavern to see the first barrel behind the bar be emptied by the rowdy men. A man with knights chain mail and swooshing brown hair grinned and laughed heartily as he declared it was time to bring out more mead. He volunteered to bring another barrel to tap into and the old barman agreed patting the knights strong biceps. The knight grabbed hold of an even bigger knight with sleeveless chain mail and yanked him away declaring he needed help. 

He watched as the barrel was carried out and more alcohol distributed. Men drank sloppily and spilled some on the floor. No one seemed to notice a weird odor or flavor, too drunk to question what they were consuming. The man stood and walked out with a small smile on his lips. His job was done and now it was time to reap the rewards. He passed the still sleeping guards on his way back to his horse and snorted. Regular people were so adorable when they thought they could take him on. By the time they regained consciousness not only would they have no memory of what happened, but he’d be long gone. He hopped onto his horse and briefly wondered where he might head for his next job. His stallions eyes flared to life once more and the two took off, neither to be seen in Camelot ever again. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning came with a spectacular hang over for a few of the knights but Arthur did not go easy on them because of it, if anything he sniffed them out and put them to work. 

“Gwaine you’ll be going with yesterday's patrol to search for the escapees or any clues.” 

The Knight squinted against the sunlight in the throne room and grunted. 

“Percival, you too.” The gentle giant looked on the verge of pouting but said nothing. “Decide among yourselves who from yesterday’s patrol will be going as well, at least half of you need to go.” 

The knights nodded and began to organize who would be going and who would be staying.

“Mordred and Daniel,” said Arthur looking for the two men, “you two will be staying and attending Leon’s morning training.” 

Mordred opened his mouth to protest he needed to go and make sure he covered any tracks they found or call out to any druids in the area and warn them before they arrived. Daniel looked ready to say a thing or two about staying behind, yesterday a few of their knights had died which meant their fellow knights wanted nothing more than to find those responsible. 

“Don’t argue with me. There are more than enough capable Knights going, all of whom have more experience than you. You two on the other hand still have some work to do on your sword skills and footwork, don’t think just because I’m not on the field means I’m not paying attention to my knight’s performance.” There was a sort of chiding in Arthur’s voice that shut down any arguments the young men wanted to say. “Report to the field now,” Arthur ordered with an eyebrow lifted and watched as the two young men shuffled out of the room like sulking children. Arthur felt very old and wise as he watched them listen to his soft reprimands for their own good. 

The King turned back toward the rest of his men and spoke in an authoritative tone, “Whoever will be part of the scouting team step forward, we have strategizing to do.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------- 

The hours passed indiscriminately and it was exactly during an afternoon meeting that Gwaine burst into the room with an unreadable expression. The king nodded a dismissal and the castle’s treasurer bowed and scurried out of the room with armfuls of rolled up parchment. 

“Report, Sir Gwaine.” 

“We found no sign of the druids or of their reasons for being so close to Camelot, sire.” Gwaine’s formal manner of speaking worried Arthur. “We did however find a young woman a ways away from the scene. We stopped her to ask her if she’d seen any druids running from the area and she became highly defensive. Sir Percival noticed then that she was riding one of our horses and had a suspicious injury.” 

“She was what?” Arthur asked with surprise. 

“Her mount was one of ours. We asked her about it but she refused to answer any questions and tried to run. It was quite the chase but when we finally caught her she still wasn’t giving up any answers. She was brought back to Camelot and taken to the dungeons. We also went to check with the stable boys and they confirmed one of our horses missing.” 

For a moment the king lost his composure and stared at Gwaine as if he’d grown three heads. “What the ruddy hell is happening here?” 

Gwaine puffed air through his nose and made a face that roughly translated to _I have no idea, mate_

Arthur took a deep breath and nodded, “Take her to the throne room at once. I intend to find out what’s going on.” 

“Yes, sire,” called Gwaine, already on his way out of the door. 

Arthur got to the throne room first and started to wonder if something had gone wrong when he finally heard the sounds of the prisoner being transported through the hall. Each side of the throne room was lined with the men who went on patrol and a few other knights and council members that had been involved in this since the day before. Two guards rounded the corner holding by the elbows a petite young woman. She yanked her arms away from their grip and stumbled a few steps toward Arthur’s throne. When she finally saw him sitting there her outraged look turned into one of pure hatred.

“What shall I call you?” asked Arthur, deciding to give her as much respect as he could. He could tell she wasn’t particularly fond of him, and to a certain degree he could understand why. 

“Kara,” she replied with such rage her voice quavered. 

The King leaned forward and made eye contact, “I was told your tribe attacked my knights while on patrol. I would like to hear your side of the story.” 

“Is that what they told you?” she asked with a bark of laughter that lacked any real humor. 

“I believe the bodies of my knights can attest to that story,” replied Arthur, a bit of anger edging into his own voice, “I wish to give you a chance to explain to me what happened yesterday, Kara.” 

She jutted out her chin, “Whatever happened to those knights, they deserved it.” 

The King leaned back in his chair and looked down upon the woman, a careful mask on his face. He let the silence stretch between them, he knew she wouldn’t be able to contain herself much longer. 

“All of your knights did! The only reason we were in the middle of nowhere was because of this kingdom’s disgusting persecution of magic. We hid away like _animals_ and still you found us. Do not speak to me of your knights as if I should pity their loss.” 

Arthur didn’t focus on the part of her rant that guaranteed she was a magic user, he would not kill her for it, but the other part he could not ignore. “You admit it then? You have no remorse for the crime committed?” 

“Whatever blood I may have on my hands, it belongs to no one innocent. Can you say the same, Arthur Pendragon?” she spat. 

He did not reply for several moments and instead considered her carefully. “I am not sure that I can,” he answered with an even voice. By the expression on her face it was obvious she did not expect him to answer in such a way and for a second she looked lost and pained. “Who gave you the horse?” 

Her small hands clenched and she looked past him, “I have no idea what you speak of.” 

“There are only two ways that you could have obtained that horse. Either someone from Camelot snuck it away and took it to you, which means we have a traitor in our court. The second option is you stole it, but this one seems a lot more unlikely, don’t you think so Kara? So I ask you again, who gave you the horse?” 

“Why do you wish to know? So you can execute them as well?” The sneer on her face was something close to animal. 

“Who said there was to be an execution?” Everyone in the room turned to look at the King to check if they’d heard what they thought they heard. She was a druid, a magic user, that was a crime that had only one punishment. 

Kara’s nostrils flared as she looked up at Arthur, “No matter what you do to me. No matter how long you have me here or how many times you ask me the same questions, my answers will not change.” 

“If you don’t give me more information I am afraid things will not end well for you. Currently your answers have been evasive and defensive. I have no doubt you participated in the fight that resulted in the death of two of my Knights or that you know more than you're saying. You are treasonous and refuse to name the person among us who has betrayed their kingdom." Arthur sat straighter in his throne, “Help yourself, Kara.” 

“Don’t!” she spat, “Do not tell me to help myself. Do not speak to me as if I am a child, as if I should be grateful for the scraps of dignity you are allowing me. I will not give up my brothers and sisters, Arthur Pendragon, because it is not a crime to fight to be who you are. I will not give up those who have helped me because I am loyal, something you would know nothing of. I have nothing to regret, nothing to apologize for. If I am to die for my actions then I will die with a smile upon my face because I will die knowing that you were the monsters and not I!” 

There were murmurs all around the throne room, council members who were appalled anyone would speak to the King in such a way, much less this imprisoned sorceress. The Knights were angry that someone could speak so flippantly about the death of their fellow men. 

“The decision of your punishment will be made by tomorrow morning. Take her back to the dungeons.” 

The two large guards grabbed her arms and swept her out of the room, her chains jiggling as she tried to free herself from their tight grip. Arthur stood from his throne and everyone stopped their murmuring and gave him their attention. “You are all dismissed,” he said in a curt tone and watched as they left the room. Amid the commotion one Knight stayed glued to his spot. The pale skin and the dark shock of hair made Arthur think of someone else for a split second. 

“Sire?” came Mordred’s voice in the now empty room. 

Arthur stepped down and walked to the Knight who looked frightened but determined. “Would you like to say something Sir Mordred?” 

“Sire …” his gaze floated to Arthur’s shoes and stayed put, “Sire, please don’t execute her. Kara isn’t a bad person, she’s simply afraid. All of them were.” 

The King ran his eyes over Mordred, his usually pale skin an ashen grey. “How can you know she is not a bad person?” 

“I met her once,” the young man admitted, “Knew her long ago. She was kind then. The persecution she has suffered. Its changed her.” 

“I feel for her in that sense, but do you think we can overlook the wrongs she has done?” 

Mordred did not answer but his eyes came up to meet with those of the King. In his eyes was everything he didn’t reveal before. Arthur could see Mordred hadn’t simply met her once, he had loved her once, perhaps even still. The King took mercy upon the wide eyed man that stood before him, “I will take into consideration what you have told me, Sir Mordred.” Mordred’s eyes lit up like Arthur was the sun himself before nodding vigorously and thanking him. The young Knight left in a rush with a swirl of red cloak and Arthur wondered briefly if he knew who had given her that horse even without her telling him. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

In a neighboring kingdom another King was facing a tough decision as well. Cendred was not a dumb man, not truly, he had a kingdom and ruled it as well as any other. As a King he was not the best or the worst, and being average never hurt anyone. He had the things he wanted and lived a good life, that is except for _one_ thing. He made the grave mistake of falling for a woman who was more cunning than most people, and who consequently had him wrapped around her little finger. 

She stood before him now, her blonde ringlets a distraction as she spoke. Morgause was a fierce warrior, and it showed in everything she did. Even as she stood before him her stance was like a cat ready to spring upon its prey any second. If only her eyes weren’t so easy to get lost in maybe Cendred would’ve realized he was the prey. 

“This time failure is not a possibility,” she finished. 

“That’s what you promised last time,” he said, sending her a sleazy smile. 

“The failure of your army was not something I could have foreseen,” she snapped. It was hardly his fault, he’d been promised an immortal army and instead lost thousands of men in their last ambush. Cendred didn’t speak, if she wanted something he’d make her beg for it. “Are you afraid Arthur Pendragon will defeat you as he did last time?” she goaded. 

Cendred saw it for what it was, yet his blood boiled. “He did not defeat me. You failed.” 

“I suppose he’s always been more of a man than you,” she said airily and turned around as if she would go exploring in his castle. 

“That _boy_ is nothing.” 

“Then help me defeat him,” she said turning on her heel to face him once more, “come with me and bring Camelot to its knees once and for all.” She could see it was working, but skepticism remained in his face, he wouldn’t be as easy to convince this time around. 

“I lost many men last time, Morgause. My numbers no longer exceed his. It will be a long time before they do again.” 

“You won’t be alone. Morgana and I have a plan. He won’t stand a chance against the three of us.” Morgause walked forward until she stood not two feet in front of Cendred’s throne. “Arthur wounded me. Almost killed me,” she reached for Cendred’s hand and pressed it flat against her left side, “Help me defeat him. Redeem yourself, King Cendred.” 

She could see the answer in his eyes before he even spoke. The breathless agreement to help was amusing and she couldn’t help but smile, Cendred smiled back at her unaware she was laughing at him. Men were quite easy to persuade, laughably so, and not even a king was difficult to get to. A stroke of the ego and a request from a damsel in distress and they came running every time. They never learned from their mistakes, that’s why they always failed. 

“Stay the night,” he asked although it was more of a statement. 

Morgause narrowed her eyes, his hand still held to her abdomen by her. “I will do you the honor of staying for dinner.” 

He laughed as she released him. “It’ll be a pleasure.” 

Morgause was willing to let him believe whatever delusions he had at the moment. They needed the man power he could provide, perhaps later on she would kill him and take his Kingdom. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said stepping back. He smiled at her, a slimy look that made her want to recoil. Yes, she would enjoy killing him later on. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

The night came to give Arthur some rest from his stressful day. George stood by the door and watched as Arthur ate in silence and stared into the flames of the fireplace. He knew exactly why the King was in such a state, the gossip of the struggle that went down on patrol had spread as soon as the Knights arrived the day before. In the servants quarters it was all you would hear as they drank their fill of watered down ale and speculated on what was going on. 

“George,” spoke Arthur breaking the silence. 

“Yes, sire?” 

“What have the people been saying about all of this?” 

The servant went red in the face, reluctant to say the rude things the peasants murmured about the recent events and the King himself. Arthur had always been beloved in the kingdom but now it seemed as if the public’s perception was shifting. “They … are discontent, my lord. They want justice for Camelot.” 

Arthur’s calculating gaze passed over George before he took another gulp of wine. When he set the cup down there was a stiffness in all of him, “I’m finished for tonight. You’re dismissed.” 

By now George was used to being sent away abruptly by Arthur, especially in the evenings when his presence was seemingly unwanted. “Will my lord be requiring my assistance to change his clothing?” 

“No, George.” 

He bowed his head and stacked the dirtied dishes in his arms. With another dip he was out of the room and leaving Arthur to whatever it was he did every evening after dinner. George didn’t ponder it too much, after all every man needs privacy. 

Arthur let his head fall back and puffed out a breath. He felt exhausted by all of the chaos that’d been going on and it was far from over. “Merlin. He’s gone.” 

It took a few moments before his best friend's voice wafted out of his handheld mirror that still sat on his bedside table. “Finally,” he said and Arthur almost smiled at the annoyance in his voice. 

“Are you jealous?” 

“I swear to the Gods I will leave, prat.” 

Arthur chuckled and stood from his chair, feeling lighter now that Merlin was insulting him. He reached his bed and sat on the edge reaching for his mirror to finally see Merlin. All that was in the reflection was the view of the top of his tent, Merlin nowhere to be seen. Arthur flopped onto his back and left his legs hanging off the edge. “ _Merlin_ ,” he whined. 

“What?” called Merlin from somewhere in his tent. 

“I can’t see you.” 

“You don’t need to see me.” 

“Come on. I’ve had a terrible day … I want to see you.” 

Silence filled the air and then finally Merlin’s face popped into the confines of his mirror. “Fine. You’re incredibly spoiled, you know that?” The sting of the comment was completely taken out by the way Merlin’s cheeks were stained pink. 

Arthur let himself smile at Merlin and was rewarded with an answering grin. “What’s happened to your hair, Merlin? You look as if you were trapped in a wind tunnel.” 

Merlin’s lips thinned and he attempted to pat his hair into submission, “I was riding Aithusa earlier and things got a bit out of hand. He’s very fast and deceptively strong.” 

“You are the strangest person I’ve ever met,” said Arthur trying to hide his fondness. 

Merlin rested his chin on a large palm and stared at Arthur, “Do you plan on telling me what’s going on or are you going to make me guess?” 

Arthur dropped the mirror next to him on the bed and ran his hands over his face. He groaned in frustration. It was slightly childish, kings were supposed to deal with the kingdoms problems, but where in the rule book did it say they weren’t allowed to complain a bit along the way? If there was anyone that Arthur could complain to and not be judged, that would be Merlin, and so he did. He started from the top with everything that happened the day before, which he’d neglected to clarify during their talk the previous night. He finished with Kara’s claims and Mordred’s request, Merlin listening intently through the spill of information. 

“Are you going to execute her?” Merlin asked, his voice carefully blank. 

Arthur kicked off his boots and moved to rest against the headboard, “Of course not. I don’t believe the things she did warrant death.” 

“Then what are you having trouble with?” asked Merlin his voice relieved but apprehensive all at once. 

“I don’t believe she should die but she’s far from innocent. I don’t know what punishment to give her, not to mention the fact that she’s a druid should guarantee her execution. Tomorrow will be a big day no matter what I decide.” 

“Whatever it is you choose, there needs to be a balance.” 

“But what that balance is, is what escapes me, Merlin. How do you punish someone justly? Usually there is a clear line that someone has crossed and a punishment that seems according, but what exactly is it that she’s done?” 

“She participated in the struggle, and if she did not kill those knights directly, she’s still withholding who did. She committed treason right in front of you. She won’t tell you who in your court is betraying you. She’s a danger.” 

Arthur was surprised to hear the conviction behind Merlin’s words, “But so much of that has to do with her being persecuted Merlin. With her loyalty to people who have helped her when it seemed the world was against her.” 

“Arthur, you have a big heart and that is a good thing for a King to have, but you must lead not only with your heart but with your mind as well. The persecution of peoples with magic is wrong, we both know this, but I can tell you there’s always a choice. Doing terrible things because you’re afraid doesn’t excuse the terrible things, just makes them easier to understand.” 

“That … makes sense.” 

“Now, I’ll help you decide since you’re useless without me.” 

Arthur picked up the mirror and found Merlin with a lopsided smile. “Call me useless again and I’ll hunt you down just to flick you in your giant ears.” 

“I’ll turn you into a toad before you do.” 

“You wouldn’t see it coming,” said Arthur lifting his brows with arrogance, “I’m that good. I just told you and you still wouldn’t be expecting me.” 

Merlin snorted and dipped out of frame for a second as he laughed, “Dollop-head.” 

By the time the two finished talking there was only a few of hours left to sleep. At some point Arthur changed into sleeping clothes while he and Merlin debated about what to do. When they finally decided the two were laying down in their respective beds and talking at each other sleepily. 

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said in a voice scratchy with tiredness. 

“No problem,” replied Merlin through a yawn. 

They both fell asleep hearing each others breathing. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Kara stood before the throne, a hard night in the dungeons having done nothing to tame the anger that shined in her eyes. Arthur sat on his throne, tall and poised. All of the knights who had been involved since the beginning of this lined the walls along with more senior council members who wanted to see Arthur’s first declaration of execution as king. 

After much consideration Arthur and Merlin did find a solution they felt appropriate. It was a punishment for her carelessness toward life, for the danger she put Camelot in, for her treason, but not for her magic. He explained all of this out loud, and the council members stood agape and angry. 

“You did not use your magic for evil acts, and therefore will not be punished for your ability to use it. The crimes you did commit however, I cannot overlook. For these I sentence you to 10 lashings and that you leave this kingdom before sundown, or there will be more severe consequences.” 

Kara’s face was a mix of wonder and hatred. He had not killed her, but still she felt she was guilty of nothing. Arthur did not explain that her leaving was really a measure Merlin and him implemented for her own safety, he let it sound like a punishment so that her sentence did not seem too light. To not only let a sorceress live, but to let her do so with only ten lashings was nothing to the people and he knew this. Yet, if she did not possess magic then this sentence would seem justified to them. 

Her lashing did not happen publicly, it happened within the dungeons and with a light hand at the request of Arthur. He didn’t want to make a spectacle of her, did not want her to suffer more than she already had. They lost two of their knights, but she lost many more of her tribe and had not found those who escaped yet. She’d lived on the run and lost the only family she knew and he could understand what it was to be without your family at least to a certain degree. 

However, no matter how much compassion you have, you cannot take the sting out of a whip cracking across tender skin. Despite her best efforts with each crack Kara cried out and by the end she was doubled over and trembling. The skin was unbroken, but red welts lined her back. After the ten lashes were over the man who implemented them backed away and looked to Arthur who had stood to the side and watched it unfold. 

“Can you stand?” he asked quietly. 

She sniffled then stood shakily. He saw in the way that her eyes squeezed tight that it pained her greatly to do so. She held the front of her dress to her chest, the laces in the back having been undone to expose her flesh. He looked down as she adjusted the dress as much as she could with her limited mobility. The man who’d administered the lashing remained and Arthur turned to look at him with a questioning eye. 

“Sire. Will that be all?” he asked, and yet in his voice was a queer sort of challenge. 

“It will.” 

The man shuffled for a second, his hand tightening around the whip in a white knuckle grip. His jaw was locked and it was easy to see he was angry, itching to inflict further damage. His behavior surprised Arthur, this man had worked for the Pendragon family for over thirty years and never before had he struggled with restraint. He did the job asked of him, but never enjoyed it. It could only be his hate for magic that had him so riled. Arthur looked him in the eye, refusing to leave Kara’s side. Finally he relented and walked away with a stiff posture. 

“Will you need to see our court physician?” 

Kara made a sound in the back of her throat and made eye contact with him for the first time since they started. Her eyes were brimming with tears, if looks could kill he would be dead. “You’re the worst kind of hypocrite.” 

Arthur was taken aback by her comment. “Pardon?” 

“You stand and watch me be whipped like some sort of animal, banish me from the Kingdom I have always lived in, even if I did so in fear, yet stand there and offer me help as if you care if I hurt or not.” 

“I do care and it’s about time people started to realize it. I did not punish you for your magic, I know it is not the evil it was made out to be. The lashings were deserved even if you refuse to believe it. You are to leave the kingdom because you won’t be safe here, at least not for some time. I never said you could never return, did I?” 

\---------------------------------------------------

Outside of the castle people were highly discontent with Arthur’s decision. There was rumors that the King had been enchanted. He was mad! If their king was enchanted, who would protect them from magic? No one noticed that their hate and paranoia had been growing steadily for a couple nights, they didn’t question why suddenly they were so afraid and so angry. The Kingdom had always loved Arthur, had seen in him a better more compassionate King than Uther. They didn’t question why they no longer trusted him. 

When Kara was escorted out of the castle doors the people watched. There was a guard on either side of her and they looked just as mad as they felt. King Arthur watched from the white balcony of the castle, he could sense something uneasy in the air. His senses did not trick him, for suddenly a woman stood and began to yell at Kara. Her words were vile and angry and soon others around them were joining in. Arthur watched with horror as a few people converged on Kara and the guards, an anger he’d never seen among his citizens taking hold of their hearts. 

He ran through the castle halls as fast as he could and down the castle steps. In the courtyard there was a crowd and they were screaming and thrashing. The scene was horrific and he crashed through them trying to get to the center. He called to his knights for help, and a few of them ran over. Some yanked citizens away from the group and fought to reach the prisoner the King had deemed worthy of life, others fought to find the center and join in. No one made it in time. 

It was not until Kara was dead that the people relented. Her body was bruised and broken but none of the attackers seemed to realize what they did. They stepped back, satisfied with their work, as if they’d saved the entire kingdom from evil. Arthur hauled the few away who he saw bashing her, and with the help of the few of his still sane knights threw them in the dungeons. 

Arthur had never seen his people behave in such a way, he didn’t believe their hatred of magic went so deep they’d be willing to murder with their very own hands. Yet, four people sat in the dungeons who proved that they would. Nausea rolled in his stomach as he ordered people left and right trying to regain control of his kingdom. The crowd had dispersed by now and Gaius knelt next to Kara’s body assessing the cause of her death. He would be responsible for her burial, no one else would take care of her body. 

The King accompanied Gaius to his little tower, helping to transport her body so that the old man wouldn’t have to heft the weight. It was gruesome and Arthur felt lost as they arrived in Gaius’s rooms. “Have you ever seen anything like that happen before, Gaius?” 

“During the purge. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long time.” Gaius didn’t sound as rattled as Arthur and the King wondered what kinds of things the old man had witnessed to still have steady hands and work on Kara’s body. 

Gwen walked into the room and looked at Kara laying on the table. She had seen death before, but not like this, her face paled and she looked away. Arthur came to her side and held onto her elbow fearing she might pass out. “Who is she? What happened to her?” she whispered. 

“She’s the recently captured druid, you can’t really tell by her face anymore. The people took justice into their own hands,” said Gaius. Arthur was taken aback by how easily Gaius gave away the information. 

Gwen looked again, but the fear fled from her expression and a look he’d never seen on her face took over. “Sad, but necessary.” 

“What?” exclaimed Arthur and let go of her elbow. 

“With all due respect, sire, she was a menace, she needed more than ten lashings.” 

He stood stunned, his brain struggling to understand the words that were coming out of Gwen’s mouth. In all the years they knew each other she had never said a peep against someone, not even magical people. Arthur turned to Gaius to see his reaction but found nothing on his face. 

“Indeed. I was surprised when you gave her such a weak sentence. She was clearly no good, magic or no magic.” Gaius pulled a sheet over Kara and looked at Arthur as if he’d made a mistake in judgement when he declared her sentence. Arthur felt as if he was frozen to the spot. “Are you alright, my lord?” asked Gaius. 

“Yes. Fine, thank you.” Arthur turned and walked out, trying to get away from them as soon as he could. Something was wrong in Camelot, but what was it? 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Mordred’s steed galloped with the young man on its back. The poor animal was huffing and puffing, as Mordred pushed it to its limits. He was filled with too many emotions to deal with but when he realized the horse was struggling to stay at a gallop no matter how hard he spurred it on he slowed the animal to a trot and jumped off to let it breath and drink some water from a barely there stream. 

He fell against the trunk of a tree and buried his face in between his knees. A few days ago he trusted Arthur to always do the right thing and despite being nervous for Kara he believed that she would be alright, clearly he was wrong. There was no way that Arthur didn’t know Kara wouldn’t be safe in public, that two lousy guards would not be able to protect her in that filthy kingdom full of magic hating beasts. In fact, it almost seemed to be done purposely, surely Arthur knew what would happen and let it be so. Kara was right all along, maybe he hid it better, but he hated them just as much as Uther had. 

Inside of him was a cocktail of pain, anger, and betrayal. The night before she was due for her lashings Mordred went to visit her and he assured her everything would be fine, he promised her he would run away with her and they could live happily on their own. She hadn’t agreed, but she hadn’t said no either. He was waiting for her near the gates when he saw it all happen. There were so many people attacking Kara it was hard to even understand. Again Arthur popped into his head, he may not have hit her with his own fist, but he might as well have. 

“You’ll pay for this,” he growled and stood with renewed heat. He hopped onto his horse and yanked on the reins. He was on a mission and didn’t have time to lose. Maybe he didn’t get to run away with Kara but now more than ever he was leaving Camelot. He would be returning to his rightful place by Morgana’s side. Once upon a time he’d left her, choosing to believe instead in the goodness he saw within Arthur. He’d been wrong to make such a choice, he could only hope she would welcome him when they reunited. Morgana loved him as a son, and few mothers can deny their sons.

If Mordred wasn’t so overwhelmed with emotion he may have stopped to think for a second or two. He could have reasoned that the sentence she received was a light one and that Arthur couldn’t of guessed the town would go crazy. Never before during his lifetime did he witness such animosity from his people, from his own knights. Mordred may have even seen that it was strange to be reacting so strongly to the accidental death of a woman he knew so many years ago he couldn’t exactly remember the number. He knew Arthur, should know better than to think he would do something like this on purpose. If he wanted to kill Kara he had all the power to do so lawfully and would be celebrated for it, why would he make himself a villain in the people’s eyes just to have her die anyway? 

The answer to the entire mystery, to his overwhelming emotions, was in the small vials dumped into a few barrels of ale but no one knew about that, so how could Mordred know he was running into the arms of the person truly responsible for the death of Kara? 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“I don’t know what to do, Merlin.” Arthur paced back and forth in his chambers, his crown discarded on the bed so that he could run his hands through mussed blond hair. 

“Could this be an outside influence?” came Merlin’s worried voice. 

“It could be anything. What if …” Arthur stopped pacing, “what if this is just who they are. What if they never accept magic?” 

Merlin watched as Arthur became consumed with fear, he knew the situation was bad but he’d never seen Arthur crumble so harshly under pressure. “Arthur, are you feeling well?” 

“NO!” the King yelled, “I’m not well. Nothing is well. My reign is a failure just as I knew it would be, people are taking justice into their own hands. I am a bad King.” Arthur flopped into a chair and held his head in his hands. 

“You can’t just give up, sire! The people need you more than ever!” 

“They hate me. I’ve done nothing but make the wrong decisions. What they need is a real leader.” 

Merlin stood motionless in Adhara’s tent where he’d been staring at the king. “What the hell are you on about? Arthur, you are a great King and have only just begun your reign. You did what was right, and you know it. What happened to Kara is a tragedy but there’s no time to sulk, now we have to figure out how to make sure nothing like it ever happens again. You have to shape up and save your Kingdom, King Arthur.” 

Arthur seemed to sit straighter in his chair as he heard Merlin speak. His eyes still seemed hollow and worried, as if he were fighting an internal battle. “You’re right. But, Merlin … I’m going to need your help.” 

As Merlin looked at Arthur he couldn’t help but agree, he was in a sorry state, if he kept this up things were going to fall apart. It was troubling to see the Arthur he knew turn into the lump of a man who sat in his chair now. “Of course. I’m at your service, sire.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Miles away Morgause rode her horse with ferocity, though what spurred her were far more positive emotions. She’d been undeniably victorious with Cendred and they now had manpower behind their war once more. No doubt Morgana would be thrilled with the good news. No longer would their plans be just a theory, they could set it into motion. Morgause was closer than the boy Mordred and so she arrived first with the good news. 

Morgana was waiting by the once grand entrance of the fortress and waved at her sister from a distance. Morgause dismounted and allowed her horse to wander off in search of water. She’d be able to find and summon him home later if need be, simple charms like that were child's play. Morgana extended her arm and they linked at the elbows, walking arm and arm into their makeshift home. 

“I dare say it went well?” 

“Cendred is eating out of the palm of my hand, he’ll do whatever it is we require.” 

The two sisters laughed, a sound too melodious to connect with the subject matter. They swept their way through the hallways; spiderwebs hung thickly in all the corners and along the stone walls. A lit torch only appeared every few steps leaving dark patches in the hall. It was an eerie and cold sort of place, but they gallivanted through it with elegance as if it were the finest castle to ever exist. By their easy disposition one might expect servants to come out in a flurry inquiring what it is the ladies would like to dine or drink. No such thing happened of course, but when Morgause was led into the dining room she found Morgana had cleaned and set up the table. 

Candles lined the length of the table and food was arranged in an appealing way. It was not a feast exactly, but they were far from starving. Morgause knew how to hunt, with magic it was almost too easy, and Morgana often picked fruits and vegetables. There was a fragrant stew with meat and hand picked vegetables, a few pastries Morgana knew how to make, and wine which could make almost anything seem better. Morgana was an amazing alchemist, cooking in comparison was really not too difficult. 

“Oh, sister. You shouldn’t have,” said Morgause as she pulled back a chair for Morgana and let her sit. She walked around and sat at the opposite end, the sisters many feet apart. 

“I felt we deserved it. After all, you are not the only one with good news.” Morgana smirked like the cat who got the cream. 

“Do tell,” said Morgause. Her eyes flashed gold and the pitcher of wine was levitating and finding their respective cups. 

Morgana laughed when her’s was filled up and lifted it in a distant cheers, “The potion is working beautifully within the kingdom. Last I checked I could feel its influence growing and spreading within the people. Arthur won’t see it coming from a mile away.”

“It’s working quickly then,” said Morgause and ate a spoonful of stew. It was rich with flavor. “It’s delicious, Morgana.” 

“It’s the frog eyes,” joked the raven haired beauty. 

The hours passed and the wine flowed, the two sisters finally allowing themselves some much deserved time to relax. Morgause had healed from a wound that would’ve killed anyone else and swindled someone into giving her an army. Morgana had only grown in her skills and created a potion that would tear the kingdom apart from the inside, not to mention she secured a dragon for them, truly a nice dinner was the least of what they deserved. It was because of this, and only this, that they did not notice someone swiftly moving past their spells over the fortress. 

Mordred might be young, but he had no lack of magical talent and he recognized the spells and charms as easily as a small child naming farm animals. He could not break them, for they were far too strong, but he certainly could resist the smaller ones. When he got to ones that were so strong they felt like a force field he warped the boundaries around himself and pushed through. This allowed him passage, yet it did warn those who had set them. Although, with a nice buzz going and cozy in each other’s company the sisters did not take into account the slight disturbances in their spells. 

The young man reached the front of the castle unnoticed and dismounted. His heart was beating rapidly, he had been sure Morgana would accept him, but now that he was here he thought perhaps she may find him to be a traitor. Kara’s bravery flashed in his thoughts and he shook the nerves away. 

**Morgana** he projected. The call seemed to be like a sonar and it made its ways past the stone and the long winding halls inside. 

The familiar voice hit her and made her sit up straighter, her cup frozen on its way up to her lips. Then again her name rang in her head. 

“Sister?” asked Morgause growing serious. 

Morgana raised a finger to demand silence. **Mordred?**

A few moments and then, **I am outside of your fortress. You were right, Morgana.**

Without a word she stood and put her cup down. She turned and walked out of the room leaving Morgause to choose if she wanted to follow or stay. Mordred was here, her dear boy. She could hear how pained he’d sounded. What did he mean she was right? If anyone had hurt Mordred she would decimate them. She found the entrance and pulled the door open to a dark and starry night. Mordred stood with his horse’s reins in his hands, the red cloak with the Pendragon crest nowhere in sight. 

“Mordred, are you alright?” she said asked as she hurried toward him. 

Behind her Morgause was being more cautious. She’d never really felt one way or another about the boy but she knew where his loyalties lied for a long time, which was with the opposing team. Morgana was foolish to trust him so quickly, but she knew better than to go there when the boy was involved. Morgana was like a mother bear protecting her cub when it came to him. 

“You were right Morgana. He will never let us live for as long as he rules. He is as rotten as Uther was,” Mordred’s voice cracked on the last words and Morgana did not hesitate to take him into her arms. She rested his head against her temple and patted his fluffy black hair tenderly. 

“Whatever it is he did to you, Mordred, we will make sure he suffers for it,” she reassured him sweetly. 

Morgause walked up to Mordred’s horse and laid her palm flat between its eyes. It only took a second to charm it as she had her own. With a nod she sent it away. “He is tired. Your journey was arduous. I’ve sent him to the nearby stream so he can drink, he’ll be back before you know it.” Mordred pulled himself from Morgana’s embrace and nodded. It seemed like a kind gesture, and Morgana smiled at Morgause’s compassion. In reality it was a tactical maneuver. Morgause now had control of Mordred horse, which meant she controlled whether he got to leave or not. 

“Come inside, you must be starving,” said Morgana as she ushered Mordred into the poorly lit fortress, “then you can tell me exactly what happened.” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Mordred did tell them what happened, reverting back to the helpless child Morgana saved when he was near her. He fought back tears as he spoke of Kara, his voice growing bitter when he described his plea to the king. Morgana sat next to him, doting over his every need. Morgause sat opposite them her elbows resting on the table and supporting her head with her hands together under her chin. She watched closely as he spoke. There was always the potential this was all a plan formulated by Arthur and Mordred would somehow lead them back to this hideout. As she watched however she quickly discovered it was not a farce.

Mordred was wrecked, and as much as he tried to hide it he couldn’t. It was brilliant! People always did such stupid things when their emotions were involved and right now Mordred’s were raw and ready to be molded by her steady hands. He could be useful no doubt. 

Morgana pushed the bowl of now cold stew toward Mordred and tilted her head in a silent plea for him to eat. He stared into the bowl. 

“You no longer believe there is good in Arthur? That he could change?” Morgause asked innocently. 

“Arthur might be a successful king, but he will do it just as his father before him. He will rise on the blood of those who have magic.” 

“I don’t want that Mordred, and you being here shows us that you don’t either. You said you wanted to help.” 

“I will fight for our kind as you two have all along. I was wrong before, but I will make up for it if you allow me to.” 

Morgause fell quiet, as if she were considering it for the very first time. “You have a good heart Mordred, but I fear the compassion you are capable of will put us in jeopardy when you have to make choices you weren’t willing to previously.” That was the nicest way she could think of to say he was a coward who was afraid of spilling a little blood to meet a rightful end. If she wasn’t under the influence of alcohol she would have sensed the way his magic reeked with their enchantment which guaranteed his ability to do the necessary. She watched as his face changed with thought. She was the one who wanted him, yet she was making him work for it. 

“I’m willing now. Our innocents have died for long enough,” he said clearly thinking of Kara, “it’s their turn.”

“It’s all for a just cause,” said Morgana and laid a porcelain hand on top of his. 

Mordred smiled for the first time since his arrival as he looked back and forth between the two women. Morgause smiled back, her face the perfect example of sympathy and joy. He looked down at the bowl and his eyes flashed gold, the food growing warm. 

“That’s the spirit!” teased Morgana and squeezed his arm. “When you finish I’ll take you to a chamber of your own, you need to rest.” 

“I’m glad I found you both in time,” he said as he spooned stew into his mouth. 

“As are we,” said Morgause, ”Tonight you shall rest per my brilliant sister’s advice,” she trailed off to look at Morgana, “and tomorrow we can have a talk about you … helping.” 

Morgana smiled a small delicate thing, pleased beyond measure that her sister wasn’t fighting her on letting Mordred in to their plans. She took a sip of wine and leaned her head on Mordred’s shoulder. He had grown since she last saw him, but now he was back, and there was no time to be sad about the days he was gone. Arthur wouldn’t stand a chance against her Mordred, she’d make sure of it. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

The following week they spent their time together until Morgana’s other adoptive child showed up. It was Aithusa and he looked better than ever. She was happy to see freedom was doing him worlds of good. Yet, all of the changes he’d been experiencing didn’t bode well for Morgana or Morgause. 

Like any other day he flew to Morgana’s window and chirped at her. She ran down and greeted it with a great big hug and a promise of whatever venison they had left. After eating all of their reserves, which irked Morgause, Aithusa lay outside sunbathing like a large cat. Morgause watched from the window as Morgana leaned against its side and petted the scaly head. 

“You’ve been gone far too long,” chided Morgana, “although wherever it is that you’ve been it suits you. You’re looking positively radiant my dear.” 

It was true, Aithusa looked happy and healthy. If Morgana had known it was because of his interactions with Merlin, his dragon lord, she may have been less thrilled but she did not understand his cheeps quite like Merlin and so she remained unbothered when he told her. 

“It’s a good thing you’re in such good spirits because soon it will be your time to shine. Arthur Pendragon will pay for his and his father’s sins soon enough.” She scratched that spot on his head she knew he liked, ”You my dear will be the star of the show. You’re going to tear that kingdom apart for me.” 

Morgana didn’t need to be able to read Aithusa’s chirps like Merlin to understand the response was not positive. Never before had Aithusa shown any squeamishness when it came to destroying things and this caught Morgana’s attention. “Does that upset you, my dear?” She crawled over to hold Aithusa’s face in her hands. 

Aithusa gave a low purr and nodded his head. 

“Why?” she asked even though she knew he couldn’t answer. 

He whined some mournful sounds, _because all life has significance, no matter if it belongs to a human, or a dragon, or even a flower. We all matter._ He wanted to say all those things, wished she could make sense of his sounds like his lord could but instead she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. He wished his lord was here. Maybe if Merlin was here he could teach her the things he’d taught to Aithusa, he thought if they got to know each other they might realize they had more in common than not. 

“Don’t abandon me now,” said Morgana softly and pressed her forehead to his snout, “I need you more than ever.” 

Aithusa nuzzled, if only he could show her there was another way. Aithusa, who was hatched long after all of the other dragons except Kilgharrah were killed, did not know much of how serious the hatred toward magic was. He knew humans could be cruel, but recently he’d learned of their kindness too. Morgana was not the only kind person as he’d long thought. Merlin was kind too and the old woman who came to watch them train from time to time liked to pet his head. He wanted Morgana to understand people weren’t as bad as they’d been fooled into thinking. 

“If you don’t help me,” said Morgana looking up to the sky, “then we will never hurt Arthur. We will never be able to take the kingdom.” 

Aithusa never met Arthur but Merlin made him sound like a good person, if not a little silly. He rumbled low and shook his head. 

Morgana blanched and dropped his head before standing. “Arthur Pendragon is a bad man. He’s just like his father! He’ll hurt me and people like me if you don’t. He’ll kill us all like his father tried to kill all of you!” 

The desperation in Morgana’s words was getting to him, she seemed very upset. Aithusa had always lived a solitary life, he didn’t know what it was like to live with other dragons and so he couldn’t mourn their loss the way she mourned the loss of her kin. He did however know what it was like to feel alone, and knew that Morgana had kept him company more than once during these times. 

“Listen to Morgana,” said Morgause from behind him and he whipped around, her magic was always unsettling. She lifted a pale eyebrow and stared at him with cold eyes, “Would you like to see other dragons?” she asked. 

Aithusa did not answer only backed away from her and toward Morgana. “Other dragons are dead,” said Morgana as if Morgause was being cruel, “How could you offer it?” 

“The same way I offered Arthur Pendragon to see his dead mother.” Morgause sat upon the grass as if they had all the time in the world and began to chant, ”Arásae mid min miclan mihte. Hider eft funde on þisse ne middangeard þín draca wæs.”

Around the expansive front yard different forms began to glitter into existence. Morgana gasped and Aithusa looked on with wide eyes. Morgause hadn’t actually conjured any dragons, but the dragon spirits always roamed the land and so she used their spirits to create tactile illusions of what they once were. There was as large red dragon swooping over head and a scaly green one stretching on the lawn. A smaller brown one seemed to come out of the treeline and crashed into the red one. They fought playfully and nipped at one another. More and more appeared until there were eight dragons. 

“This is only a handful of the ones that used to exist in Albion, I’m afraid I am not strong enough to call to spirits farther than these. Do you see?” she asked Aithusa, “How close they once were?” 

Aithusa rumbled lowly and shot into the sky. The illusions turned toward him and roared, it was frightening but exhilarating. He took in their different colors and shapes, no longer feeling strange about his white hide and mangled form. They chased him through the sky and he chirped and puffed fire at them. He dived and fell upon the green one on the grass. It roared grumpily and slapped him off, careful not to injure the little one with his claws. 

“They were wonderful weren’t they?” asked Morgause from her spot on the ground. “Too bad they were slaughtered,” she said her voice turning cold. Morgause no longer attempted to hold this version of their forms and instead let their mortal injuries manifest. The two dragons that were flying plummeted from the sky and fell with clouds of smoke. The head of the green dragon rolled away and Aithusa screeched and flew toward Morgana and Morgause. She let him take in all the bodies, the way they lay battered and uncared for. Then as quickly as she conjured them she let them slip away into the ether. 

“They were never given a chance,” said Morgause and Morgana moved to hug Aithusa around the neck. “Uther Pendragon, Arthur’s father, tricked the last dragon lord and he killed them all because no one fought for them. The last dragon lord let himself be fooled, he trusted the king when he said he would change his mind. But rotten kings don’t change their minds, little one.” 

Aithusa huffed hot air out of his nostrils. How horrid. How despicable. 

“Arthur Pendragon was raised by Uther, and he takes after him. Don’t let yourself be fooled like your ancestors were. Fight with us, give them the revenge they deserve. Prevent the same thing happening to people like Morgana.” 

Aithusa nodded and nuzzled into Morgana’s side. Her eyes were glossy as she kissed his muzzle over and over. “I knew I could count on you, just like you can count on me.” 

Merlin’s father had been the last dragon lord, and he trusted the king the same way Merlin trusted Arthur. His lord was good, he knew he didn’t lie to him, he would feel it through their bond if he had. Aithusa didn’t doubt Merlin meant the things he said, but that didn’t mean he was right. Through that same bond he felt the endless willingness to see the positive, the deep well of empathy he had for all beings. Merlin was not bad, just naive, but Aithusa would do right by his kind anyway. When this was all over, his lord would be glad that Aithusa chose to help the right side and save lives just as Merlin had taught him.


	9. Forethought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The villains aren't the only one's with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I took a long time to update but I have a good explanation which is uh-- *throws 20k words at you then runs in the other direction* STREET SMARTS!

**Present Day**

Thousands of feet echoed with rhythmic thunder as Cenred’s army marched forward to face their ultimate enemy. Leading the knights was their King and his sorceress. They each sat atop black stallions as beautiful and dark as their riders. 

“This is it.” Morgause began to slow the trot of her mount, “Morgana herself has dreamed it.” 

Cenred slowed next to her and looked around. “Are you sure? It would be unwise for King Arthur to trap himself here with us.” 

“If Morgana proclaimed it then it must come to pass. Arthur will find you here, and this shall be your battleground.” 

After covering miles on foot while wearing hot and heavy armour the men flagged with relief when their king finally raised a gloved hand to signal them to halt. In a giant chain reaction where each link was a row of hardened warriors, row after row received the message until every last knight stopped and examined their surroundings. They were deep in the bowels of a valley, the rocky walls casting blessed shade upon them. 

“Men, you may rest, but remain alert,” said Cenred, and somehow his voice carried to the very last row of his men.

“Do not fret, Cenred. Morgana has never been wrong in the past.” 

“For both of our sakes … she better not be.” 

The neat lines of knights began to break apart and make camp. None of them wanted to be there, the last time they faced this adversary a fraction of their army had been wiped out. It was easy to see the way Morgause had Cenred wrapped around her pinky finger, but they dared not speak up, unsure they could take on the witch. Yet, it was too late for regret now, they were here and all they could do was to fight for their lives with every bit of conviction they held. It was time for the war. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 **Eleven Days Before**

“Merlin … I’m going to need your help.” 

“Of course. I’m at your service, sire.” 

Arthur was not one to crumble under pressure. He was not one to openly ask for help, at least never from Merlin. As he watched the bravest man he knew break, Merlin knew it was time to come home. He would return to Camelot and together they would deal with the madness poisoning their kingdom. He coaxed Arthur through his fits of anger and helplessness until he was curled up in bed, sniffling like a small child getting over a tantrum. Finally, the leaden exhaustion that comes to one after their heart is broken crawled over Arthur and he drifted off into a dead kind of sleep.

Merlin felt as if Arthur’s rest was his own. With a sigh of relief Merlin broke the connection and set to work immediately. He closed his eyes and reached out with his magic hoping to catch a hint of the only person that could help him right now. Like a hunting hound catching a whiff of a fox a mile away, Merlin’s magic picked up on Adhara and he stood at once to go to her. 

Adhara was near the perimeter of the druid camp and she sat cross legged on the dirt surrounded by six children. He could see by the way they looked at each other that they were speaking into each other’s minds. One little boy looked at Adhara and raised his eyebrows pointedly to emphasize whatever he was saying. The children burst into fits of giggles and rolled on the dirt with that sort of abandonment one only has as a child. 

**Am I interrupting?** He asked the group. 

A little girl by the name of Ada gasped and ran to him. With an exaggerated grunt he picked her up and plopped her on his hip. “Wook what I can do!” She smiled at him and then her face morphed with concentration. Her little pink tongue stuck out and then finally, **Hello, Emrys!**

“You’re so good at that, Ada!” He praised her.

Her cheeks took on a rosy hue and she hid her face in his shoulder. “Fank you,” she murmured into his robe, overcome with shyness at being praised by her idol. 

Merlin patted her back and smiled at the children still sitting around his mentor. “I don’t mean to cut this lesson short, but I need some of our elder’s help learning something too.” 

Before they could be dismissed the children scrambled up and made a run for it, finally free from their tutoring. Merlin set Ada down and with a flimsy wave she ran off after her friends. Adhara stood with trouble; her knees cracking. She used her staff for support and began to walk away from Merlin. 

“Walk and talk,” she called behind her. 

Merlin caught up, “I may need to leave again.” 

Her steps faltered for a second but she simply shook her head and continued toward her tent. “What’s gone wrong this time?” 

“Frankly I haven’t the faintest. That’s where you come in,” he said with a pleading grin. As they walked he told her the limited information he knew and she nodded and hummed at all the right times. 

Adhara threw one of her tent flaps aside and entered with the confidence that Merlin would be right behind her. She released her staff and Merlin watched as it floated through the tent and rested against the foot of her bed. At her workstation table she whispered an incantation and the large porcelain basin upon the table began to fill with crystalline liquid. He could tell she was setting up a station to scry, albeit her supplies were much fancier that his simple clay bowl and spring water, but he didn’t understand why. 

“If we are to find what is wrong we will need to know more than what you and the king have deciphered on your own. We will scry the kingdom and find as much information as we can to come to some more sound conclusions. We’ll use your magic to cover larger areas and vague places.” 

Merlin approached the basin and weaved his magic into the spell as he spoke, picturing in his mind the markets of Camelot. The water rippled and color began to flood the liquid, painting a grotesque picture. The two stood and peered into this far away kingdom where people seemed to be inflamed and enraged with one another for seemingly no reason. Merlin whispered and the all seeing eye of magic let them witness people in the privacy of their own homes. Some sat weeping around their huts, cursing the Gods for parts of their lives that neither Merlin nor Adhara would ever fully understand. Without thinking Merlin was whispering again and the two found themselves staring at the scene of the hideous crime committed hours before. 

It seemed as if perhaps there was a haphazard attempt made to clean it up but much of the earlier struggle remained. There were torn pieces of cloth that floated back and forth across the square as the wind blew. The stones were stained pink and in some places smeared scarlet red. Adhara though she saw bone fragments and looked away from the basin. 

“Merlin,” she spoke to snap his gaze away from the image before he too saw all the horrors he hadn’t yet noticed. 

He turned to her with a pale face and haunted eyes. “Yes?” 

“Observation is good but there are too many variables. You were able to see the effects on King Arthur clearly because you know him well. Think of somewhere or someone who you can look upon and gage how far the damage has gone.” 

The two checked over Merlin’s friends back at home. It seemed as if not everyone was reacting the same. Not only did emotions vary, but the degree to which they seemed to be felt also varied. The two spent hours upon hours investigating and trying to find the reasons for the differences in their behavior. They formed theories and spent their time disproving some and finding truth in others. The young warlock did not notice how much time had passed until his elderly companion interrupted their investigation. 

**I am an old woman, Emrys. I must rest. You must too.** Adhara had stopped using her voice long ago, too tired to bother speaking aloud. 

“We’re getting closer, Adhara! We cannot stop now!” cried Merlin. 

The old woman’s eyes flashed gold and the image which Merlin had been so intently looking at dispersed. The surface of the water turned black and reflective and all that was left for Merlin to see was himself. He must’ve been tearing at his hair because it stuck up at odd angles that made him seem like a village madman. His eyes were bloodshot and violet bruised his under eyes. He looked like hell. 

**In the state you’re in you’re viable to do more harm than good. This is too critical for us to mess up with simple human error because we refused to provide our bodies with sleep.**

Merlin wanted to argue, he really did, but now that the images of Camelot were gone he found that he was exhausted. His neck ached from looking down for so long and his feet were swollen from standing immobile for hours on end. He blinked his eyes to force away the blurriness of sleep and looked at Adhara. She had that look in her eye that meant there was nothing Merlin could do to persuade her. 

“Tomorrow bright and early?” He asked stretching his cramped back. 

**Brights and early.**

With a single nod he knew he was dismissed and so he wished her good rest and left in search for his own fluffy bedding. As soon as he laid down he groaned with how good it felt to rest. Merlin had learned a lot from being at the druid camp, and not just magical things. Adhara taught him how to care for himself in ways that no one had taught him before. Here he was second to no one and he realized it wasn’t a selfish sin to care for yourself as much as you care for others. He went from a starving and sleep deprived love struck idiot to a well fed and well rested love struck idiot. Most importantly, she taught him of the worth and value within himself and his skills. For these reasons Merlin was able to close his eyes like he’d never done in Camelot, and sleep. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

The next sunrise Merlin and Adhara worked tirelessly, each hour getting closer and closer to an answer. They knew now that the source of the strange behavior was most certainly an enchantment, but that the enchantment did not force people to act in ways they didn’t already feel to some degree. However, Merlin didn’t blame the citizens of Camelot for all their atrocities because they also understood that the enchantment warps the mind and blows reactions out of proportion. Adhara had compared it to the flap of a butterfly’s wing causing a great storm. 

Now they sat in her tent once more and after having tracked the effects of said enchantment they found an interesting pattern in the way it spread. The effects seemed to be more advanced in certain areas of the kingdom while others barely exhibited any symptoms. They found that the damage was mostly in the city and that few surrounding villages were affected. It seemed only villages who had contact with the city were feeling the enchantment as well. 

“It’s as if the spell were contaminating the city … “ Adhara murmured as she rubbed at her chin. She paced back and forth and wagged her staff as she spit out her line of reasoning. 

“Is it possible it may actually be a matter of contagion?” Merlin asked offhandedly. 

Adhara stopped in her tracks and her eyes went wide. “Emrys!” she exclaimed, “That’s it!” 

“Yes?” 

“Oh it’s so obvious! How did we not see it before?” she asked merrily. She zipped over to her work station and picked up a book. She began to flip through the pages excitedly and read under her breath. At times she would beam at her findings and at others she would frown and shake her head in frustration. 

“Have you found something?” 

Adhara finally dropped the book and swiveled around to face Merlin. Her eyes locked with his and he could see her mind working a mile a minute. “You’re right about the contagion. I’ve never seen anything quite like it and there is no record of anything either, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense. The priestess has advanced in her skills and is dipping her hands into the waters of dark magic. She has created an enchantment which moves through the lands like a sickness. It is spreading through Camelot, but if this is so then there must be a source of contamination.” 

“If I find it and destroy it do you think it will end the spell?” 

The old woman sat on her stool and contemplated the question for a second. “I do not believe so. Identifying the physical element that first introduced the enchantment may aid us in finding a cure, but it will not heal those already poisoned. Consider everyone ate a bad crop and ended with a stomach virus. You may burn the crop but that would have little effect on the person suffering through the consequences already.” 

“Great. This only gets more and more complicated.” 

“I have no lack of faith in you. Although, I’m afraid I cannot sit and console you much longer. If we are to make any real difference in this fight we’ll need to get you to Camelot and start making some progress using all that we’ve learned.” 

In a very Merlin fashion the young man stood up and wrapped his magical mentor in a hug. “Thank you for all your help, Adhara. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Don’t thank me just yet. We’re not quite done,” she said and patted him on the back. He leaned away from her to raise a dark eyebrow in question. She smiled tenderly, “You’ve got a grueling journey ahead. I have some gifts for you.” 

It wasn’t until hours later when Merlin finally set off. He rode a horse by the name of carrot, aptly named after her love of said vegetable, who belonged to Adhara herself. She was a well behaved mare that would get him to Camelot faster than he’d arrive on foot. This time around a dragon ride was not an option since Merlin realized Kilgharrah was too old for journeys such as these anymore, and Aithusa too much of an inexperienced wildcard when it came to letting Merlin ride. Secured to carrot sat a fat satchel that Adhara prepared with motherly care stuffed with more food than he could eat in four days and, despite his protests, crystals with protection and health charms imbued in them. As he rode through the forest he couldn’t help but note how strange it was to be excited about riding back to the one place that guaranteed his death. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 **Seven Days Before**

Arthur found himself on the training field increasingly as the days passed. With each day came a new anger and all he could do was come down to the field and try to expend so much energy he had none left to be miserable. 

“Sir Gwaine!” He barked as soon as he set a well polished boot onto the grass. “Spar with me. Now.” 

Within seconds Gwaine was meeting Arthur head on and getting low into a ready stance. The scruffy knight was rarely found in a sour mood, but now under the influence of the enchantment he found more than a few things to be angry about. One such thing was that his very best friend was no longer in Camelot, at the order of the prat who now stood in front of him. Any chance he got to punch Arthur was a chance he would gladly accept. 

Each stood still and sized the other one up. Gwaine was the first to attack and his blow was heavy and fast. At the very last moment Arthur’s sword came up and a resounding clang echoed through the fields. The force of the contact vibrated up their arms and the pain ignited them. Arthur spun around and slashed at Gwaine’s flank with his sword. Gwaine evaded the blade and began to rain down a series of quick paced blows at Arthur. The King kept up, but was being pushed backward as Gwaine refused to relent. 

“That all you got, princess?” growled Gwaine. 

Arthur’s nostrils flared and his eyes shone with a kind of rage that few had seen and lived to tell the tale about. “I. Am. Your. King!” He grunted in between blows exchanged and little by little he began to gain on Gwaine. In a move that they’d never been taught in training Gwaine spun away from Arthur and brought the hilt of his sword down hard on the back of Arthur’s head. 

The King made no sound, felt no pain, only saw red. Arthur ducked under another of Gwaine’s swings and then used all his might to swing his right leg around and catch Gwaine in the ribs. The kick landed and Gwaine was sent sprawling back. The sword fell from Gwaine’s hand and skittered across the grass. The roguish knight wheezed and squeezed his eyes tight. 

Percival and Elyan ran to Gwaine’s side to check the damage. Arthur didn’t bother with finding out if Gwaine was alright or not. It boiled his very blood to think that Gwaine thought Arthur wanted Merlin gone when all he wanted was to see Merlin again. Having Merlin be apart from him felt like cutting a piece of himself and tossing it away. 

“Sire,” said Sir Lancelot cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, “I’d like to spar next.” And, if each man used this bout of sparring to fight through frustrations about their love lives, well who was to know? 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

The trip to Camelot should’ve taken close to five days, but Merlin had always been ingenious and motivated, especially when Arthur needed him. He made good time on horseback and used his ability to see the path ahead to work out shortcuts to reach the castle faster. At times he even rode at night, illuminating the path ahead with magical luminescence. It wasn’t the smartest idea, especially since he wasn’t in magic friendly territory, but no one discovered him and to Merlin that was good enough. Too much caution was really a pesky thing. 

It was the third day of his trek and Merlin’s worries grew as he neared his destination. He’d taken to talking with Carrot about his anxieties through their trip and she listened sweetly as he babbled. 

“What if Arthur is so far-gone he orders my execution as soon as he sees me?” mused Merlin to Carrot as she continued her slow trot. She whinnied at him in response. 

“Not to mention I don’t even know if I can hide with Gaius! I mean you remember what I was telling you about him! He’s been exposed to just about everyone with the enchantment because of his job. I would not want to face down with an evil Gaius. I have no doubt he could outsmart me, Carrot.” 

Carrot slowed to a stop and shook her head in a way that whipped her mane to and fro. For a moment Merlin thought he’d frightened Carrot so much with the idea of an evil Gaius that she refused to go any further, but just as he opened his mouth to comfort her he realized the real reason she’d stopped. 

The gates of Camelot were visible past the edge of the treeline. Merlin was always awed by the beauty of the Kingdom and he sat for a few seconds marveling at the gleaming white-stone castle beyond the gates. His marveling, however, was cut short when his eyes landed upon the two guards that were posted on either side of the entrance. They stood tall and looked meaner than he recalled them. 

Merlin dismounted and patted Carrot’s flank. “This is as far as you go, my lady,” he whispered to the horse. She seemed to enjoy the title mightily and nosed at his cheek in appreciation. A chuckle rumbled in his chest at her affections and with a final pat he set about unbuckling his satchel. He slung the bag over a shoulder and pulled on the mare’s reigns to turn her around. She was charmed to always find her way home, where she was needed, so it was time to make her way back. Besides, if he wanted to sneak in as a peasant nobody, doing it with a horse of his own wasn’t the way to do it. 

With a firm slap to her backside Carrot took off and Merlin silenced the sound of her hooves with his magic. When she was difficult to track with just the bare eye, Merlin turned back around and checked on the guards. He knew them well enough, having entered and left the city many times. There was no doubt they’d recognize him … at least they would’ve if he didn’t have a blood crystal. It hung around his neck from a thin silver chain and rested coolly on his chest, hidden by his tunic. 

Adhara herself had spelled the crystal, its effect as strong as if he’d done it himself. The blood crystal would allow Merlin to take the form of whoever's blood it touched. Years ago two thugs had used some similar to his to try and kill Arthur when he was a prince by stabbing two knights and dipping the crystals in their noble blood. Merlin’s own illusion came about in a much more relaxed way. A druid volunteered to spill a few drops of his blood upon the shining surface and now when Merlin wore it he had dirty blonde locks and brown almond shaped eyes among other differences. He looked nothing like himself and that was exactly what he wanted. 

Merlin took a deep breath and walked toward the gates, making sure to drag his feet a little like he’d just taken a long journey on foot. He saw the guards turn and squint at him. 

“Halt,” said the one standing to the right. “What is your name and where do you hail from?” 

He’d practiced a cover story before leaving, but as the guard gave him the stink eye he found he forgot everything. “Uhh … I’m Gareth from … from Saltayre?” 

“Are you asking me or telling me, simpleton?” 

“Telling you.” 

The guard sneered at ‘Gareth’s’ tone. “What is your business in Camelot?” 

“I came to visit an old friend.” 

“Anyone I would know?” 

“No. You seem a very respectable man, I doubt you’d know a scoundrel like him.” 

The guard to the left snorted, “A ’respectable man’ he says.” 

There was a moment of tension between the two guards where they looked like they’d come to blows. Then the left guard turned to him and cocked his head toward the gate. “Go ahead, Gareth from Saltayre.” 

Merlin zipped past them as fast as he could and walked through the lower town and into the market with his head down. No one could see his true form, but he felt just like himself, it was all just an illusion and he felt naked among people who would not hesitate to tear a person apart. 

He made it to the courtyard undetected and that’s when he heard the ruckus. He looked across the yard to the training field where Arthur was sparring with a knight he didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like the usual exchange of technique and teaching, instead it looked like the men were trying to kill one another. Arthur spun around and caught the man’s face with his elbow, an audible crunch echoing all the way to where Merlin stood frozen. 

“Argh!” howled the Knight as he cupped his nose, blood trickling in between his fingers. 

Arthur’s stance showed no sign of remorse, instead he looked like a coiled spring ready to explode any minute. His jaw was visibly clenched and his chest heaved. “Sir Leon will be taking over the rest of afternoon training. I expect to see some improvement by the end of the week, today’s display was nothing short of pathetic.” At the very end Arthur seemed to bite his tongue and take a few deep breaths. He was trying hard to keep it together, but the things he’d said and done were bad enough already. 

“Sire,” growled out a few of the Knights, their eyes blazing with contempt. 

“Running away already, princess?” Called Gwaine from the edge of the field where he’d been drinking water. He looked bloodied and dirty, his usual smirk missing all of its mirth. He gripped his sword hard and looked about ready to run after Arthur and start up a whole new fight. 

The tension between Arthur and his Knights was palpable and for a second Merlin thought he might have to intervene, although he didn’t quite know if he’d be saving Arthur from the Knights or vice versa. Arthur swiveled around so hard the grass under his left foot was uprooted, “REPORT TO SIR LEON!” The command set most the knights scurrying toward Leon. After a few moments Gwaine relented and followed too. Merlin huffed a breath of relief and moved fast, he had some things to get in order. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur moved through the halls like a beast hungry for prey and most people scurried out of his way. Only a few ballsy servants holding a grudge remained. Arthur tried his best to ignore their snide remarks as he walked past them. Behind him were the quick footsteps of George trying to keep up, each time someone muttered something nasty about Arthur, George called back with something equally scathing. 

They arrived at his chambers and Arthur pushed the door open with such force the door swung back on its hinges and slammed against the wall. He ripped off his gloves and discarded them on the floor before falling into a chair. 

“George, draw me a bath,” he said as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. When George didn’t immediately reply Arthur’s frustration grew. “George!”

“I’m afraid George had to go attend some other business,” spoke up a deep voice as someone entered the room, “but he sent me in his place. If you wish I will draw you a bath, sire.” 

Arthur didn’t look up, only continued to massage his temples and let out a sigh of frustration. He should’ve been angry but he found the man had a nice soothing voice, a nice change from George’s, especially with the headache that currently pounded in his head. “Do it quickly. But first help me out of my chain mail.” He stood and walked over to the changing screen. It was then that he heard those footsteps behind him, heavy and clumsy and like something right out of his dreams. “Merlin?” he croaked, afraid to turn around and see someone else. 

Silence filled the space between them and then finally the man replied with a shaky, “Sire?” 

Now it was obvious who that voice belonged to. It was a sound he craved every moment of every day and had never been replicated by anyone Arthur knew. “You’re back!” he exclaimed and swiveled around to look at his best friend. As soon as his eyes landed on the man Arthur felt as if he’d received a blow to the stomach. This man looked nothing like Merlin … and yet … didn’t he? There was something deep in those brown eyes that tugged at Arthur’s heart. As he looked further he recognized Merlin’s clothes. There was no neckerchief or jacket, but his ridiculous over-sized blue tunic hung off his frame and his pants were held up by his brown leather belt. 

The man took in a shaky breath and then muttered a few words. In a blink of Arthur’s eyes he went from a stranger to the one person in the world he wanted to see. “Surprise?” 

Arthur lunged at Merlin, and the warlock was sure this was the end. When he wasn’t immediately run through he dared to open his eyes and take in the scene. Arthur was hugging him. Tight. Warmth rushed through Merlin and he wrapped his arms around his king. His eyes fluttered shut as he held Arthur to him. 

“This was not the welcome I was expecting,” admitted Merlin, “I thought you were going to be insane and angry with me.” 

“No,” Arthur mumbled, “not angry. Just very tired and a little insane. Get this damned enchantment off me, Merlin.” 

“Of course … as soon as I figure out how to do that.” Merlin gave Arthur a smile that looked more like a wince when Arthur pulled back and glared at him like an angry bull. 

_Mer_ lin. I believe it’s in everyone’s best interest that you do it fast.” 

A chill traveled up Merlin’s spine at the look in Arthur’s eyes and he nodded. “Let’s get you a bath first.” 

This time around Merlin used his magic to ease the chain mail off of Arthur and to ready his bath in record time. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach at the look of awe on Arthur’s face. As Arthur sank down with a groan into the perfectly warmed water, Merlin felt a surge of satisfaction. 

“Magic must be made legal immediately,” murmured Arthur as he luxuriated in the water. 

Merlin chuckled and walked closer, “Sit up and let me wash your hair.” 

Arthur sat up as if Merlin was the King and he the servant. Merlin sat on a stool behind Arthur and began to lather his hair and massage his scalp. For a few minutes Arthur’s personal hell vanished and the only thing left were Merlin’s able fingers running through his hair. He found himself leaning into the press of Merlin’s fingers and holding back a few embarrassing sounds. 

“Arthur?” 

“Hmmm,” answered the King very coherently. 

“I want to examine the enchantment. Now. It won’t hurt … I think.” 

Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he turned in the tub, sloshing water over the sides. Merlin very pointedly kept his eyes on Arthur’s face. “How will you do that?” 

“Adhara, a druid healer, taught me how to search for ailments and enchantments while I stayed in her camp. Typically we have some idea of what we’re looking for but this time I’m not really sure, which is why I need to start looking as soon as possible.” 

Arthur’s sharp jaw clenched but instead of denying Merlin he gave a short nod and settled down again. His shoulders were tense with the effort to stay calm and Merlin appreciated how much trust Arthur was willing to place in him. 

“Come here,” he said softly and began to massage Arthur’s scalp once more. He waited until Arthur relaxed under his touch to begin his search. He let a few tendrils of his magic seep into Arthur through his finger tips. The moment Arthur felt it he gasped and shuddered. Merlin’s magic made its way through Arthur checking every single one of his systems. 

Arthur could feel the warmth of Merlin’s magic running through his veins and it was intoxicating. The golden hue of it sparkled beneath Arthur’s closed eyelids, it was easily one of the most beautiful things he’d experienced before. Behind him Merlin’s hands had slowed to a subconscious scrubbing of his scalp. In that moment he felt so at peace he could’ve cried, but he swallowed around the lump in his throat and took a few shuddering breaths. He’d cried in front of Merlin more than he had ever wanted to already, and he didn’t plan on doing it again anytime soon. 

“I found it. It’s everywhere,” Merlin whispered behind him. His voice had gone hoarse and distant. “Hold still,” he commanded and slid his soapy fingers firmly against Arthur’s temples. 

The King could’ve never braced himself for the feeling he was experiencing now. Pain wasn’t quite the word, perhaps extreme discomfort. It felt akin to when he had an affliction of the throat and sinus and Gaius would give him a foul concoction that made him expel thick phlegm through violent coughing fits. It was that same tearing sensation followed by the vile slide of the thick mucous exiting your throat, except it seemed to be happening in every fiber of his being. It was as if Merlin’s magic was siphoning the enchantment out of him and Arthur gritted his teeth and held the rim of the tub with a white knuckle grip.

It all culminated at his temples and with a final disturbing pull, the feeling stopped. Only then did Arthur realize how hard he was breathing and how tightly his eyes were closed. His jaw ached from clenching it with such force and sweat beaded all over his body despite being in the now cooling bath water. 

“It’s awful,” Merlin said and he sounded broken and upset. At the sound Arthur forgot all about his own discomfort and turned in the bath to look at Merlin. His cheeks were flushed and his black hair clung to the sweat on his skin. 

“Merlin? What’s wrong?” Arthur knelt in the bath and placed his dripping hands on Merlin’s knees. Merlin turned to look at him and his eyes seemed to be very far away. “Merlin! You idiot, what did you do?” 

“I absorbed it … well my magic did,” he confessed, “It just happened, I couldn’t help it. There was no way I could leave it.” 

Arthur’s mouth gaped open and he was stuck between being furious and unbearably worried. 

“You were in distress for so long, and I wasn’t here to help you,” he said staring into Arthur’s eyes with a heartbreaking expression. “I’m supposed to protect you, Arthur!” 

“Oh, Merlin,” he breathed and squeezed one of Merlin’s knees. “Remember none of it is as real as it feels.” 

Merlin nodded and he seemed to stabilize minutely. “Right.” 

“Now give it back to me. You will be of no use to me if you’re all weepy. Give it back and figure out an actual way to stop it.” 

“Absolutely not you clot-pole,” he responded with total outrage. “I’ll be fine. The enchantment is well made but I can feel my magic metabolizing it already. It’ll take some time is all.” Color began to spill back into Merlin’s cheeks and he tried at a smile, “Thanks to me we now know it isn’t indestructible … I’m a genius.” 

“That’s debatable,” huffed Arthur. 

That made Merlin laugh and Arthur felt himself relaxing. With the worst of it seemingly over Arthur finally realized he was exposed and holding Merlin. The knees of Merlin’s breeches were damp now and he hastily removed his hands. “You can sleep it off here,” he said as nonchalantly as he could. 

Merlin’s eyes drifted down his tan torso before they snapped back up quickly, “That might be a good idea.” 

Arthur sank further into the bath trying to retain some modesty and nodded toward his bed. He watched as Merlin walked shakily to the four poster monstrosity and flopped onto it with a noise of exhaustion. Arthur couldn’t help but smile, it was good to have Merlin back. 

Arthur finished up his bath and dressed behind his screen with the utmost care not to wake Merlin. He sat at his desk and worked the hours away as Merlin recuperated. Now that the enchantment was gone the King felt infinitely better and suddenly the problems his kingdom was facing seemed tackleable. He set down the reports he was reading and looked over at Merlin who slept peacefully on his bed. It was a sight to see for sure. Merlin’s face was squished into the pillow and his hair stuck up like a birds nest. His limbs were sprawled carelessly over the fine duvet and every now and then he would snort and smack his lips. 

A knock at the door ripped his gaze off of Merlin in a panic. “Yes?” 

“It is George, sire. May I enter?” 

“No!” yelled Arthur and stood from his chair with such speed he knocked it over. Merlin’s head shot off the pillow and his eyes were wide and alarmed. He opened his mouth to yell at Arthur for frightening him but the King shook his head vigorously and mouthed _NO_. 

“Sire?” George’s voice was growing concerned and Arthur knew he would be going into a panic any second now. Under the enchantment George’s devoutness to Arthur had any sign of rejection from the King sending him into a deep depression. 

“Just a minute, George!” He said rushing to Merlin on the bed and yanking him off by the back of his tunic. Merlin hit the floor with an ‘oof' and a glare. “Hide!” he hissed at Merlin and poked his side with the toe of his boot so that Merlin would roll under the bed. 

“Are you angry with me, my Lord?” came George’s quivering voice from the other side of the oak. 

“Of course not! Come in, George!” Arthur yelled as he tried and failed to smooth the sheets where Merlin had been sleeping. 

George stepped through immediately and his face was flushed from holding back tears. Arthur felt a pang of guilt in his gut at distressing George. “I was coming to check if you’d been served dinner yet. That other serving boy didn’t seem up to the task.”

“Quite right, George,” Arthur said moving away from the bed. “In fact, I am ravenous this evening. Bring me a double serving of everything.” 

The servant seemed to light up and nod at his new commands. “Right away, sire!” He turned neatly on his heel and hurried out of the room. 

As soon as the door clicked shut Merlin crawled out from under the bed. “Prat! What’d you do that for?” 

“It’s not safe for you to be in plain sight!” 

“Well why couldn’t I just hide in the antechamber? Or cloak myself again? And what’s with George bad mouthing me … well Gareth ... behind his back,” Merlin grumbled. If anything he was doubly annoyed because it was so clean under the bed that there wasn’t really much to dust off. Damn George and his skills! 

“George is the jealous type, and besides, what would be the fun of you hiding in the antechamber?” Arthur decided not to admit that he panicked at the prospect of losing Merlin again and didn’t even think about the other options.

“Jealous of what?! Serving the biggest cabbage head from here to Cenred’s Kingdom?” 

“Oi! Serving the King is an honor!” 

Merlin snorted, “Right.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” spluttered Arthur. 

“I’m just saying, a chamber pot is a chamber pot, doesn’t matter who it belongs to.” 

“You’re just angry that George is a better servant than you.” 

Merlin scowled but before he could spit back a retort the door was being pushed open again. Merlin dove under the bed and heard Arthur laughing at him. Merlin had no idea how he made it to the kitchens and back so quickly, but he could hear the sounds of George setting down the food on Arthur’s dining table. 

“That will be all for the night, George. Your service has been exemplary today.” The last bit may have been a bit much but Arthur really didn’t want to deal with an upset George again. The servant seemed to blush as he bowed and left the room. 

“Your service has been exemplary today,” mocked Merlin as he crawled out from under the bed again and stood. 

“Seems as if George isn’t the only jealous one,” teased Arthur. 

“You wish,” said Merlin as he went and sat at the table with Arthur. There was none of the trepidation there had been in the early days. 

“Who said you could sit?” asked Arthur. 

“I _will_ turn you into a toad.” 

Arthur laughed at Merlin’s threat and slid a plate of heaping food toward the other man, “Hungry?” 

“Ravenous,” replied Merlin, echoing his earlier words and smiling. 

“Good. Eat up, Merlin, we’ll be needing every bit of our energy tonight.” 

Merlin almost spit out the sip of wine he’d stolen from Arthur’s goblet. “What?” 

“We’ll be working late, Merlin. We have an entire kingdom to save, or have you already forgotten? 

“Oooh! No, yeah. Of course, we’ve got a lot of work to do. For the kingdom. That’s exactly what I thought you meant.” Merlin’s cheeks were flushed and he looked down at his food to avoid eye contact with Arthur. 

“What _does_ go on in that giant head of yours, Merlin?” Arthur wondered aloud and took a sip of his wine. Merlin was a real strange one to say the least. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 **Six Days Before**

Merlin awoke to Arthur’s toes poking at his cheek. Still in a daze of exhaustion he smacked Arthur’s foot away and blinked his eyes to try and clear his vision. He was in the King’s bed sleeping head to toe with the man, and Arthur was sprawled to his right taking up most of the room like the cabbage head he was. Merlin recalled the way they wandered from the table, to the rug, and finally to bed last night as they attempted to strategize a way to come out of this mess in one piece. The bed was large enough that they needn’t touch and yet Arthur’s feet still kicked Merlin awake. Arthur whined when Merlin smacked his foot away for the second time and tried to burrow into the blankets even more.

“Let’s have you, lazy daisy!” rumbled Merlin in a voice deeper than usual with sleep. He pushed against Arthur’s thigh to shake the king awake. 

“Shake me again and I’m banishing you for a second time,” came Arthur’s muffled voice against his pillow. 

“You would miss me far too much for that.” Merlin was promptly hit in the face with Arthur’s pillow, still warm and smelling of his soap. 

“We _just_ fell asleep.” Arthur pulled the duvet over his head like a child and wiggled until he was comfortable again. 

“Fine. I suppose I’ll have to do all the work as usual.”

Merlin shuffled off the bed and went in search of his boots. Arthur took advantage and immediately moved to the center of the bed and sighed at the warmth Merlin left behind. If Merlin was honest he was a little jealous; Arthur hadn’t been wrong when he said they had very little rest. They worked through most of the night, and now all he wanted was to crawl back into bed and go back to sleep … maybe cuddle up next to Arthur and -- 

The King sat up in bed looked highly irritated. “I hate you for turning me into a decent person,” he said to Merlin as he scooted off the mattress, “Never before would I have gotten up to help you.” 

“No good deed goes unpunished, sire,” Merlin said as he fastened the buckles on his boots. 

“You need to get going before George gets here.” 

“Right. I’ll go ahead and get started on saving the kingdom while you eat breakfast.” 

“As it should be,” yawned Arthur and stretched next to his bed. He looked at Merlin and smiled an open and warm thing, his head tilting ever so slightly to the left. 

Merlin’s heart sped up and had to break eye contact before he did something ridiculous like blush. Arthur looked beautiful like this; playful and sleepy, unburdened of all his problems for a moment. Sometimes Merlin wished he wasn’t gifted the knowledge that Arthur had this side to him, a side which was sweet and warm, perhaps then it would be easy to control his feelings. It was cruel of destiny to let Merlin fall more for Arthur each passing day, especially since neither of them brought up what happened during his last visit. Arthur said he would figure out his feelings … did the fact that they didn’t address it again mean that Arthur decided his feelings weren’t real after all? He didn’t dare dwell on the thought, a broken heart was the last thing he needed right now. 

He pulled at the chain around his neck until the crystal flopped out of his tunic. He wrapped long fingers around it and let his eyes flash golden. Just like that it was activated and once more he was in disguise. He threw a goodbye over his shoulder as he slipped out of the door and tried to give the guards at Arthur’s door an innocent smile. The men were stunned by the blond youth exiting the Kings chambers at this time of day but Merlin didn’t stop to find out what they might do about their confusion. 

He made his way to Gaius’s tower feeling equal parts excited and apprehensive about seeing the man again. Despite his nervousness he sped up his pace, needing to get to Gaius as soon as possible. Last night Merlin and Arthur decided their number one priority was to end this enchantment and for that they would no doubt need the help of Gaius, one of the most brilliant men Merlin would ever know. 

His hands were sweaty when he knocked on the door that was once the entrance to his home. He yearned to burst in and hug Gaius but he knows the man in there is not the man he left behind all those months ago. Instead he fidgets with the crystal and waits for permission to enter. He hears noise inside and what sounds like angry grumbling. 

“What could you possibly need at such an ungodly hour?” asked Gaius as soon as he yanked the door open. He’s wearing his night clothes and missing his glasses. He squints at Merlin’s face trying to focus his vision. 

Merlin looked both ways in the corridor before turning back to Gaius and smiling. “It’s a private matter … may I step inside?” 

Gaius rolled his eyes and shuffled inside leaving Merlin to step in and close the door behind him. “You young men and your ‘private matters.’ If you have warts on your genitals then fess up so I can inspect it and get back to sleep.” 

Merlin wants to laugh very much, except he was physicians apprentice for far too long and he knows just how many people with ‘private’ matters they had to attend. It wasn’t one of his favorite parts of the job. “No. It’s a different type of matter. I need your help, Gaius.” 

The old man is wearing his glasses now and he glares at Merlin when he calls him by his first name. “What for?” 

Merlin squeezed the crystal and his eyes flood with gold. He can see the shock written clearly across Gaius’s features when his true form is revealed. “To save the kingdom.” 

“My boy?” Gaius asked in a disbelieving whisper. 

“It’s me,” he replied with a shaking voice. Merlin had missed Gaius a lot more than he realized. 

The old man moved toward Merlin as if her were an apparition with bright eyes. Upon reaching him he took hold of Merlin’s arms and stared up at his boy. “Of course, I’ll help you,” he said, “just tell me what you need, Merlin.” 

The door was promptly locked and respective seats were taken at the work table. Merlin spilled his guts to Gaius about the new mess he found himself in the middle of. His uncle listened intently and collected every bit of useful information from the rant Merlin was going on. 

When Merlin finished out of breath and a thousand pounds lighter, Gaius nodded slowly at his mentee. “So, if I am understanding everything correctly, I am currently under an enchantment and you’ve come to free me of it so that I may find a more sustainable way of curing the masses than you going door to door.”

“In summary, yes.” 

“Very well.” Gaius’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown as he sank deep in thought. “We know your magic is strong enough to metabolize the spell, but it leaves you tired and ultimately useless--” 

“Oi!” 

“But if your magic can slowly destroy it then it should have no trouble containing it. I want you to free me of the enchantment, but learn from your last mistake and refrain from absorbing it into yourself.” 

Merlin gnawed at his bottom lip, clearly nervous. “Gaius in all honesty this is unlike anything I’ve dealt with before. How would I even do that?” 

Gaius huffed in annoyance, “I am not the most powerful warlock to walk the Earth, Merlin, that’s you. Use that giant head of yours and figure it out.” The outburst was uncharacteristic of Gaius but one cannot blame an old man under an enchantment for growing irritated when his nephew asks dumb questions. 

Merlin squared his shoulders and nodded, “Alright. But I have it on good authority this won’t feel good.” 

Instead of touching Gaius, like he had with Arthur, he left distance between the two of them. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his magic, letting it expand and spill over. Golden tendrils seeped into Gaius via his nose and ears. The old man gave no indication he was uncomfortable so Merlin let the magic flow deeper and deeper. In Arthur he found the enchantment concentrated within his core so Merlin searched there first. A ball of dark energy swirled inside of Gaius and Merlin shuddered when his magic made contact with it. 

He began to pull at the dark energy just as he had before. It felt very much like black sludge sliding over his magic. It moved slowly as it traveled up the tendrils Merlin had extended. This time, he did not let the enchantment crawl its way into him. Sweat beaded on his body with the concentration it took to begin collecting the dark energy into a ball and keep a tight hold on it. Finally he heard Gaius gasp and he knew the enchantment had been removed. He opened his eyes to see a black cloud trapped within a sphere of gold floating between him and Gaius. If it wasn’t so dangerous, Merlin might have said it was beautiful. 

Despite the black energy cloud inside the golden sphere swirling and attempting to escape, the sphere of Merlin’s magic held up and they both knew the enchantment was going nowhere. Gaius reached forward and snatched the ball out of the air. He turned it in his hands and examined Merlin’s work. “Fascinating … I will keep this for further testing, I recommend you hurry along and take this enchantment off of those you and Arthur planned.” 

“Should I collect and bring those back to you as well?” 

“I think one will do ... perhaps even keeping this one is unwise, but I think it may aid us in understanding the enchantment better. Destroy the rest of them.” 

Merlin nodded and stood. “Thank you, Gaius, I knew I could count on you.” 

Gaius looked up and smiled and Merlin could tell he’d gotten back the man who gave him a home so many years ago. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

That evening Arthur asked George to set up the hall for dinner with eight guests. George didn’t recall any visiting nobles they were meant to accommodate or celebrations to be had but he set about preparing everything to be nice just in case. When the King told him who he was to collect and bring to the hall George grew even more confused. It wasn’t easy to find everyone, they were a seemingly random group and if you asked him a few of them were unworthy of dining with the King. Nonetheless he did not want Arthur to be angry with him and so he personally invited each person to be a guest at the royal dining table that evening.

George watched with confusion as five knights walked in and took their seats around Arthur. For the past week these knights all seemed about ready to knock each other over the head, and had, yet now they greeted each other and the King like long lost friends finally reunited. 

“How’s your head?” asked the knight George came to know as Gwaine. The sheepish look on his face seemed out of place since George knew Gwaine himself had been the one to hit the King with the hilt of his sword over the head earlier that day.

“I suspect it’s about the same as your ribs,” responded Arthur with a boyish smile. 

“You mean it feels like you were rammed by a bull?” 

Arthur laughed and their earlier transgressions seemed to be forgiven and forgotten. 

The peasant girl Guinevere entered the hall next and George nodded at her as she waved hello to him. He didn’t know her well, only knew the rumors of her love affair with the King. He didn’t know if he believed them really, for as long as he worked for the King they had never seemed to be anything more than friends. Although, they must have been true because otherwise her presence made even less sense than the knights’. As soon as she sat Lancelot shot her a look full of apology and guilt and she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“We both said awful things, Lance,” she leaned in and whispered, “We’re more than even.” 

Before George could snoop on that interesting development some more Gaius and a random serving boy walked in. Gaius was a close advisor of the King so it made sense he would be here, but the serving boy? He’d only seen the boy a single time the day before when he took over George’s shift very abruptly with a flimsy excuse. If that boy thought he’d be serving the King again instead of George he was dead wrong! 

The King sat straighter when he caught sight of them, “AH! Gaius, M-Gareth, come. Take a seat.” 

George felt his face growing hot with anger as he watched _Gareth_ sit as if he had every right to. 

“George, go ahead and bring in the food.” 

With the help of a few maids the food was served and wine was poured. George thought he did a pretty good job considering how little warning he had to throw this all together. 

Arthur nodded in a way George had come to interpret as a silent thank you. “This dinner will be private, so you may all take the rest of the night off.” 

The serving staff bowed and took their leave before the King could change his mind and put them to work. George left too, although bitterly and glaring at Gareth as he backed out of the room. When everyone was finally out of the room the guards were ordered to close the door. No one was to enter without the King’s express permission. 

“Now that we’re alone. Gareth, would you do the honors?” Arthur asked as he shot Merlin a cheeky smile. 

Merlin gave an impish grin around the table, “With pleasure.” His eyes flashed golden and a wave of magic shot out around him and floated through the room, expanding and coating every surface, even the people. Gwaine whooped and Gwen giggled. Merlin bowed like an actor at the end of a brilliant performance and killed the illusion over his appearance. 

“Show off,” muttered Arthur and took a sip of his wine as if he was bothered. 

“Look who’s talking,” joked Leon and patted Arthur on the back. 

There was a wave of laughter and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s back for a day and you all turn into disrespectful children. He’s a terrible influence on you all.” 

Gwaine sat up straight and raised his goblet, “A toast to Merlin,” he said and everyone joined in. 

Merlin flushed to the tips of his ears and looked to change the subject as his friends drank to him. “I’ve just secured the room against magical intervention of any sort. This room is safe to discuss all that we must.” 

Gwen looked sullen for a second, recalling how terrible it was to be under the enchantment. “Thank you Merlin, for releasing us all,” she said, her voice a little rough. 

Merlin nodded with care, “but we must all remember just because you are no longer under the enchantment doesn’t mean that it’s gone. I cannot rid the people of it individually, and we need to figure out a way to cure it. Not only that but Morgana and Morgause promised they would be back to take over the kingdom. There’s no way this enchantment is all they’re planning.” 

“I’ve been working with the sample Merlin gave me. I believe there’s been some progress. In some ways it mimics a physical illness, I am wondering if it could be counteracted in a similar way.” Gaius looked around the table to make sure everyone understood. “If we can count on it to behave like an illness when it comes to contraction you will all have built up resistance by now, if not immunity after its removal.” 

“You’re the best in the five Kingdoms Gaius, we all trust in your expertise. I have no doubt we can count on you to return our citizens to health. If there is anything at all you need for your research know you may have it.” Arthur said. 

“Are we going to be scouting for Morgana?” asked Elyan. 

“Or Morgause. But we won’t be going in blind like we have in the past. This time we have Merlin. I want to make it clear to you all, until we know exactly what we’re up against this is purely for the collection of intelligence.” 

“Well it’s usually you who runs in head first so make sure you take your own advice, Arthur,” said Merlin with a raised eyebrow. Arthur pursed his lips and glared. 

There were a few moments where they forgot about everyone else in the room until Percival cleared his throat. “We can eat, right?” he asked a little shyly. 

The King suppressed a smile and nodded, “Let’s eat.” 

“Yes, this’ll be our last meal before everything goes to hell,” Gwaine threw out flippantly. 

“Gwaine!” chastised Gwen and tried to keep her smile from showing. 

The knight winked at Gwen and bit into his chicken leg without any semblance of manners. Despite the joking tone they all knew his words could very well hold a lot of truth and so they dove into their meals with equal ferocity. For the next few hours they talked about what they would do, and enjoyed each other’s company, glad to have each other back. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

**Five Days Before**

“Merlin do me favor, repeat the last spell we tried, but this time use ‘acwele’ instead of ‘Þu fornimest,’” 

“Whatever you say, Gaius.” Merlin outstretched his hands to the sphere that still contained the removed enchantment and chanted the counter spell they were constructing on the go. With Gaius’s experiments they had gathered a little more data on the enchantment, the main thing being it was not one found in any books. It seemed that Morgana or Morgause created it from scratch, which meant their counter attack would have to be just as unique. 

Gaius watched as the energy inside the sphere swirled and shied away from Merlin’s hands. As Merlin spoke the energy went wild and seemed to turn into a mini storm. For the first time that day, the two watched as the energy began transforming into something physical. The once black cloud seemed to condensate against the inner surface of the sphere and began to drip down and collect in the lower half. As Merlin chanted the cloud disappeared little by little into the puddle. By the time Merlin stopped there was a dark purple liquid sloshing around inside the sphere. 

“Did … did it work?” The young man asked with caution. 

“I have no idea,” admitted Gaius as he snatched the ball away from Merlin. 

Merlin watched as Gaius hobbled away with perhaps too much excitement to be appropriate for the situation and began to turn the ball this way and that, examining the contents with a magnifying glass. “Remarkable,” he whispered to himself as he squinted into the glass. His eye looked giant behind the glass and Merlin tried not to laugh at the way Gaius looked like an over excited child. 

“I think you may have broken the enchantment, or at least a portion of it. This seems to be the base of the potion. Quick! Open the sphere, I must begin testing it immediately!” 

“Uh, yes, of course.” Only now did Merlin realize he had no idea how to open the sphere. It’s not as if it had a little latch. He concentrated on the ball and trusted his magic to open it for him. The sphere cracked like glass along the equator and left the sphere in two perfect halves. He carried the bottom half like a bowl over to Gaius, careful not to spill the purple liquid. 

“It’s coagulating, Merlin!” Gaius exclaimed. 

“That’s … great?” tried Merlin, when he saw the annoyed look on Gaius’s face he cringed and tried again, “Terrible?” 

“Do you remember nothing of what I teach you, child?” asked Gaius. For a second Merlin got a glimpse of what it must’ve been like for Arthur to have Gaius as a tutor. “The coagulation could point us to what kind of ingredients are in this potion.” 

“Like snakeroot!” Merlin gasped and raised his hands in a eureka moment. 

Gaius nodded sagely and a little smile tugged at his lips. “Perhaps you were listening after all.” 

Merlin smiled his most innocent smile and nodded. He most definitely didn’t tell Gaius he remembered that from one of Adhara’s lessons. As he watched Gaius do seemingly random things to their sample he danced from foot to foot like a young lad waiting for the adults to finish doing whatever boring things they were up to so that he could go and play. Truthfully, Gaius was the expert when it came to science and at a certain point Merlin only slowed the man down, it was at these points that Merlin grew terribly bored and unfocused. “Gaius, if you were a sorceress with a penchant for trying to take over Camelot, how would you infect everyone with your evil enchantment?” 

The older man stopped examining the purple sludge to turn and look at Merlin with barely contained exasperation. “I’m not sure, Merlin. How about you try and figure that out while I break down this potion?” 

People may call Merlin dumb or clueless, but he knew when he was being shooed away. “Send for me if you need me, I’ll be with Arthur.” 

Gaius poured some of the sludge into a thick glass vial and set it in a stand. “Uh huh,” he grunted, not really listening. He poured a green liquid into the vial and a cloud of smoke poofed out into the air. It smelled absolutely wretched. This time it was Merlin who didn’t listen when Gaius called to him and instead hurried away from the stinky work room. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The water well?” Suggested Arthur as he paced in his chambers.

“Like when the afanc polluted the water?” Merlin was sitting on the trunk at the foot of Arthur’s bed, cross legged and with eyebrows knit in thought.

“Yes. It spread quickly since everyone drinks from it.” 

“Perhaps. Although remember what Gaius said about the way it spreads like a cold. Morgana’s source could be smaller since she only needed a few people to be carriers for her enchantment.” 

“Since a physical potion needs to be taken, we should be focusing on places where people eat or drink. Perhaps one of the inns?” 

“No. That would affect travelers and merchants more than the citizens of Camelot.” 

“Wait a minute. What about your favorite place in the entire world?” 

“What?” asked Merlin, now confused. 

“The tavern!” 

Merlin stood from the trunk with indignation, “I’ve already told you! I never went to the tavern!” 

“Sounds like something an alcoholic in denial would say.” Arthur laughed as Merlin ran his hands over his face with exasperation. 

The warlock opened his mouth to shoot back an insult when it hit him, “That might actually work. Think about it. People of all classes go there, which ensures she’d be spreading the enchantment to as many people as possible. Everyone’s drunk so they’re not being careful of what they’re drinking. Not to mention it’s a hell of a lot easier to access than the underground well.” 

Arthur strutted toward the door as Merlin finished talking. He didn’t wait for Merlin or answer his question of where the hell he was going. He heard a few colorful curses leave Merlin and Arthur couldn’t deny how happy it made him to have Merlin’s foul language back in his life. 

“Where to, sire?” came George’s voice when they walked into the hall and nearly gave Arthur a heart attack. 

“I was just accompanying Gareth, he needs my help with something.” Arthur walked back a few steps to grab Merlin by the shoulders who already had his disguise back in place. “Don’t you, Gareth?” 

“Yes. Urgently.” 

George narrowed his eyes and shook in his spot. “Are you replacing me with Gareth?” He sounded like a jealous wife. 

Arthur spluttered for a moment, not used to George speaking like that to him. “No, George. Gareth is a _terrible_ servant.” 

George couldn’t help but smile. “Shall I be expecting you for lunch, my lord?” 

Arthur frowned and leaned forward as if to share a secret with his servant. “Gareth is very slow,” he stage whispered, “helping him may take a long time. But I’ll be sure to call for you when I return.” George preened and nodded his head before walking past Merlin as if he wasn’t there.

“Prat,” Merlin said to the King as he walked by and bumped his shoulder. 

Arthur gaped at the show of aggression and then couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I had to get rid of him,” he said catching up, “after all, we may take a long time at the tavern.” 

“That’s where I thought we were going,” said Merlin with triumph in his voice. 

“Yes. I want you to check the barrels of mead and any food products they sell. If that is indeed the sight of infection we’ll destroy it just like your friend Adhara said.”

At the rising sun people turned to look when Arthur walked in. Before his banishment Merlin recalled heads turning to look at Arthur in awe. Now when the people looked at him there was many things in their eyes, but few of them had anything positive. Merlin watched as Arthur made his way through the tavern with no fear and walked right up to the bar keep. They spoke for a few moments in semi hushed voices and the barkeep turned to look at Merlin a few times.

“This way, your majesty,” said the barkeep when Arthur finished speaking. Arthur turned to Merlin and nodded for him to follow. 

The two were taken to the storage room. It held the barrels filled with different kinds of ale and mead; a few sacs of peanuts laid lazily against the wall. The barkeep bowed to Arthur and then promptly left them alone. 

“What did you say to him?” asked Merlin. 

“I simply implied an interest in his products. Perhaps insinuated I was thinking about having him supply the castle some of his mead, but that I wanted to personally see the condition of his products.” 

Merlin nodded and then looked up, eyes already shining. “Guard the door,” he said in a low voice that had Arthur lost for a few seconds. 

He shuffled over to block the door and watched as Merlin walked around each barrel with raised hands and glowing eyes. Merlin’s illusion hadn't worked on Arthur since he revealed himself to him that first time, and the King marveled at the way Merlin looked in his true form. Merlin’s fine features usually made him look like some beautiful fae being, yet in this moment Arthur didn’t think even a fae prince could compete. He was beyond all the things Arthur understood. He watched breathless as Merlin whispered something and golden light emanated from his hands. Merlin knelt in front of the peanuts and let the golden light sink into the cloth of the sacs. After a few moments he finally stood and dusted off his knees. 

“Well?” Arthur asked to try and stop thinking about how stupidly breathtaking Merlin could be. 

“There is some residue of the enchantment in those empty barrels over there. All of the ones gathered to the right seem to be newly made and have no traces of magic. Neither does the food.” 

“Do you think you could …” Arthur stuck his hand out in front of him and raised his eyebrows dramatically. 

“What are you doing?” 

“That’s what you look like when you’re doing magic.” 

“What?! No it isn’t! That looks ridiculous.” 

“You said it,” quipped Arthur. 

Merlin huffed in indignation and stomped over to the infected barrels. He stuck his hand out with anger and only realized how he looked too late. He turned to Arthur and with a thought silenced the laughter coming from his mouth. Arthur immediately looked alarmed and Merlin felt incredibly smug as he turned to the barrels and purged them of their left over enchantment. 

“Done. Let’s head back to the castle.” He tried to walk past Arthur and pretend he didn’t notice the angry gesturing the King was doing. 

Arthur grabbed his arm and shoved him away from the door. He pointed dramatically at his throat and made an angry face, Merlin couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to say something?” he asked, cocking his head to the side with innocence written all over his features. 

Arthur’s cheeks were growing red, and he nodded yes vigorously. 

“Then why don’t you say it?” 

The King went to tug at his hair and knocked his crown lopsided on his head. He watched as Merlin laughed at him like Arthur was a court jester, appointed solely for his entertainment. _What an ass_. Arthur gripped Merlin’s shoulders and swiveled them around to pin Merlin to the rickety wooden walls of the storage room. Merlin gasped for breath as he continued to laugh. 

“Arthur, I don’t know what’s gotten into you but I like this new silent version of you. Sometimes you babble a bit too much.” His grin only widened when Arthur raised a brow as if to say, _look who’s talking_. 

Before he could say something smart again Arthur’s face lit up with an idea and any trace of anger was replaced with mischief. Merlin only got a few seconds to fear for his life before Arthur kissed him. Merlin gasped in surprise and Arthur took the opportunity to let his tongue explore. Merlin shuddered and wrapped his arms over Arthur’s muscled shoulders. They had very much not been talking about their changing relationship and Merlin was relieved beyond belief that Arthur might not have changed his mind after all. 

Arthur pressed Merlin against the wall with his full weight and Merlin groaned. The King ran his lips against Merlin’s jaw softly and let his mouth travel up to Merlin’s ear. He felt Arthur’s mouth move against it and he shuddered at the feeling, his hands finding purchase in Arthur’s cloak. Arthur’s lips moved for the second time and it became clear he was trying to say something and Merlin very much wanted to hear it. His magic acted on its own, responding to his strong desire and gifted Arthur his voice back. 

He nipped at Merlin’s ear lobe and the warlock melted against the wall. He heard a chuckle rumble in Arthur’s chest before the King suddenly extracted himself from Merlin. He smiled a victorious smile and lifted his chin regally. Merlin wanted to ask what the hell was going on and why Arthur was not kissing him anymore but he seemed to have lost the capacity to find words as soon as Arthur’s lips connected with his earlier. Arthur leaned in again and his eyes crinkled with mirth, his breath brushed hot against the shell of Merlin’s ear and he barely suppressed a whimper.

“I can leave you speechless too,” Arthur whispered in a husky voice. Then, as if he hadn’t just kissed Merlin silly he turned and walked out of the storage room with an extra spring in his step. Merlin wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss Arthur some more, or punch him square in the nose. 

“I’m going to kill you,” he hissed as he ran after Arthur. The King only laughed.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

That afternoon he did not find himself back in Gaius’s tower. He helped as much as he could, but Merlin’s area of specialty was not alchemy, and as it turned out, before the purge Gaius was quite the potion master. In between helping Gaius when he needed large surges of power to activate his potions or needed him to collect ingredients, he helped the knights. 

Instead of having the knights going to search blindly for their enemies Merlin scryed for them. They sat around the round table and searched for Morgana and Morgause, all leaning over to try and look into the large water basin Arthur had provided for Merlin. The first few attempts of their search proved to be unfruitful as time after time they failed to locate either of the sisters. 

“It’s possible they’ve done something to protect themselves against being scryed. I confess in some areas they know quite a bit more than I.” 

The knights sat discouraged for a second before Leon spoke up, “What if we can’t locate them exactly, but we can locate people they’re interacting with?” 

“What do you mean?” asked Merlin and the other knights turned curious eyes upon their second in command. 

“During their last invasion they worked closely with Cenred. If we had kept an eye on him instead of scouring for Morgana in the woods we may have known about the attack much sooner. Let’s check people they may be allied with.” 

“That’s brilliant, mate!” cried Gwaine and slapped him on the back hard. The usually quiet knight seemed to blush a little and murmur a thanks. 

“I guess we could try …” said Merlin and looked back down into the water. “Diegol cnytte, gewitte me yst, King Cenred.” 

The water rippled and soon enough a murky image of the King came to be upon the water. He sat on his throne, and he leaned forward menacingly as he spoke to someone whose face was hidden from them. “I want an _army_ not a group of crying maidens.” 

“The men are understandably apprehensive,” the man with his back turned growled out. The tension was almost palpable through the water. 

“In war there is always risk. They knew what they signed up for.” 

“Indeed, and yet there are rumors of a revolt. They need to hear from you, my lord. They need to understand why they must fight the same adversary so soon after their first defeat, with half the men. They need you to lead them.” 

Elyan tensed next to Merlin and whispered, “Can they hear us?” 

Merlin shook his head, “No. Not unless I want them to.” 

“Seems like Cenred is planning a war,” said Arthur, finally speaking for the first time in a while. His jaw was set with determination and something else frightening. 

They all turned their attention back to the image. “I will speak to them, but as my right hand man I expect you to whip them into shape soon. Now is not the time for cold feet,” finished King Cenred. He leaned back in his chair and the man he had been speaking to spun around and stomped out of the image. 

“Stop the connection,” ordered Arthur and leaned his elbows on the table. Merlin killed the image as soon as Arthur spoke and looked to his King. “Judging by what we just heard Cenred is going to war soon, and it is with an enemy that recently defeated him.” Arthur looked around the table and found understanding in each of his knights eyes. 

“Is that where we’re headed?” asked Lancelot quietly. 

“Some of us, yes. The rest of us will have to stay here and ready our troops.” 

“I’ll go,” volunteered Percival.

“So will I,” added Elyan. 

“And I,” said Lancelot looking over to his friends and offering his unspoken support. 

“Very well, gentlemen. You three will be going alone, we must keep our party small and covert. Remember, you will only be going to gain information, avoid engaging in any fighting. Collect as much information as you can while staying out of sight, then come right back home and report to me.” 

“Yes, sire,” the three echoed in response to Arthur’s order. 

“You must leave with whatever daylight remains, we’ve no time to waste. And gentlemen ... be careful.” 

The three men stood and bowed before leaving with squared shoulders. Merlin looked at Arthur for a second before he stood and followed them out to help them pack and say goodbye. Perhaps on their way out he muttered a few protection spells over the knights, but no one could prove it. 

Around the table sat Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon. “I’m going to need your help here. I’m sure you’re both aware of the state our knights are in. With this enchantment my men are in no shape to fight as a united front.” 

“We’ll be here, sire,” said Gwaine, and the way his voice was unwavering gave Arthur confidence. It occurred to him then how right Merlin had been. The King was always stronger with friends around, and it appeared he had a few. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 **Four Days Before**

Arthur, Leon, and Gwaine spent the day on the fields trying to get the men back under control while Gaius, Merlin, and Gwen worked on the cure. Gwen didn’t have medical or magical know-how but she was a hard worker and if there was anything to be done she was capable. Gaius on the other hand had both medical and magical know-how and Merlin was in awe at how he was jumping through each new obstacle with grace and intelligence … mostly.

“I need water!” Gaius yelled as the latest of his tests exploded into a ball of flames. 

Gwen screamed as the flames rose higher and began to fill the room with smoke. Merlin stepped in front of her protectively and raised a hand toward the fire. “Fyr, hiersumaþ me! Swealt fyr!” he commanded. In an instant the flames blinked out of existence and the three were left to cough as the smoke floated about in the work room. Gaius opened a window and let the smoke begin to waft out. 

“I’m going to need some more water before I try the next batch,” Gaius said as if he hadn’t just lit his work table on fire. 

“I’ll go,” said Gwen from behind Merlin and smiled at Gaius as if to say _it happens to the best of us._

Gaius had the decency to look slightly ashamed of almost having burned down the tower and thanked her before looking at his desk to see the extent of the damage.

“Come help me, Merlin,” she said and tugged at his sleeve. He knew she didn’t need help but he went anyway to let Gaius have a moment to regain his dignity. 

While at the water pump it became clear to Merlin that Gaius wasn’t the only one that had needed a moment. “How are you, Gwen?” he asked as he pumped the lever and water spewed into one of the buckets they brought with them. 

“I’m fine … a little worried I suppose.” 

“We’ll get through this, Gwen. Everything will be fine.” He examined her from his spot where he crouched next to the water pump so that the motion was easier on his back. 

“I know,” she said and bit her lip, “but what if it isn’t? We’ve escaped from so many dangerous situations. I’m afraid that one of these days we’ll run out of luck.” 

Gwen didn’t know all of the things Merlin had done, really the only people who knew about that were Gaius and Arthur, and even they didn’t truly know the extent of it. He stood and hugged her to his chest. “We have not escaped or been lucky, Gwen,” he said and pulled back just enough to see her face, “We’ve fought our way through each time. We’ve survived because we refuse to give in, and this time will be no different. You, my friend, are one of the strongest people I know and it’s because of you and people like you that Camelot will not fall.” 

A small gasp left Gwen and she hugged him tight. “Thank you, Merlin. I’m glad you’re back.” 

“I missed you, too,” he whispered into her hair, “but we should hurry up before Gaius lights something else on fire.” 

Gwen snorted and let go of Merlin to go and take over the water-pump. They chatted about all the little things Merlin missed while he was gone, and he was pleasantly surprised when Gwen grew flustered when they spoke about Lancelot. The more they talked the more it became clear that Gwen had a new love prospect and the knowledge gave Merlin great relief. He hadn’t seen her that happy in far too long. When they returned to the tower it was only to find Gaius muttering to himself at great speeds. 

“Took you long enough!” Gaius said once he spotted Merlin carrying the two buckets and took one from him. “I think I’ve got it, Merlin …” 

“Wait, really?” asked Merlin as he set down the second bucket and walked closer to see what Gaius was up to. 

The old man was a tornado as he went from one side of his workroom to the other gathering chemicals and ingredients. A large cast iron pot sat atop a few controlled flames and Gaius poured various liquids into it along with half the water in a bucket. He snatched a few herbs Merlin hadn’t seen before off the wall and crumbled the thick green leaves into the mix. “Yes. The potion Morgana made was truly quite brilliant. I’ve never seen anything like it. She used physical as well as magical properties, which I will need your help on by the way, to make the enchantment easy to contract and spread. After breaking it down I’m confident I can mimic it, with a few modifications of our own.” 

“Gods, am I glad you’re on our side, Gaius,” Merlin said with wide and mildly terrified eyes. 

Gaius simply shot him a smile that shouldn’t have been cute but somehow was. “Come on, my boy. I’m going to need your help with the magical side of this all. Morgana didn’t make this an easy one for us.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon walked up and down the neat rows of knights. They stood with rigid backs and faced forward to where Arthur stood tall and proud. 

“Shoulders back,” he corrected as he passed a slouching young knight. The younger man clenched his jaw and stood straighter. 

At the beginning of that day the knights had been a mess. The discipline Arthur had carefully honed in them for years was eroded by their constant and extreme emotions. It was hard to get them to follow orders or to have them fight without becoming personally involved and committing errors. Arthur, Leon, and Gwaine spent all day essentially beating and instructing the enchantment out of them. Of course, that wasn’t how magic worked, but looking at the knights all standing at attention before their king one might be inclined to believe it for a moment. 

“Camelot’s enemy will only win when our unity is broken,” said Arthur as he walked back and forth in front of the group. “I have seen us struggle for some time now to work as one. There are those of you here who doubt me as your leader. There are those of you here who doubt yourselves as warriors. To you I say, good. I encourage your individual thoughts, but do not let your own fears overshadow the facts. Camelot has not been beaten as of yet, and under our united protection she never will be. Shape up, gentlemen, we must always be ready.” 

“Yes, sire!” the men barked in unison and looked upon their golden king. For a moment in time things were as they’d always been and the knights looked upon Arthur with the knowledge that he would be the best leader they would ever have. 

“You are dismissed for the day,” said Arthur and finally the men broke apart and went in search of water and much needed rest. They were all dirty and had been worked down to the bone, reviewing every drill they’d been taught and practicing any skills they lacked in, which appeared to be many if the way Arthur made them repeat the movements over and over was any indication. 

Arthur sent George to prepare him a bath and walked to Gaius’s tower with purpose. When he knocked on the door there was urgent scrambling inside and then finally an out of breath Gwen opened the door. 

“It’s just Arthur,” she called into the room with relief and opened the door wider. 

Merlin and Gaius stepped away from a bubbling pot and turned to look at Arthur. “Is that it?” he asked and got closer. 

“It may be. We’ve yet to test it.” 

“Actually I wanted to ask you about that … I had someone in mind, but I wanted to get your permission first.” Merlin bit his lip and looked at Arthur with pleading eyes. 

“I already don’t like where this is going.” 

“Please. They’re the perfect person! Nothing bad will happen to them, worst case scenario the potion is ineffective.” 

“Who’d you have in mind?” asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow in a way Gaius was proud of. 

Merlin smiled his classic Merlin smile and Arthur found it didn’t matter what name he would’ve said, Arthur would’ve been powerless to resist. That’s how they ended up back in Arthur’s chambers with the King accosting a certain brown haired servant. 

“Pardon, sire?” said George as if Arthur had gone insane. 

“I said you must be very tired, sit down, have some of my watered down wine.” 

George stared at Arthur as if he had three heads but reached for the pitcher nonetheless. Merlin for his part was standing near the bed and using his “invisibility” spell to avoid having George see him. It wouldn’t do to get George all riled up with Gareth around. With great apprehension George served himself some wine and took a sip. 

“Good?” asked Arthur. 

“Yes, sire. It’s very generous of you.” 

“Have some more,” urged Arthur and George took another sip, this time with less trepidation. 

Merlin watched with great anxiety as George finished off the rest of the wine, which of course had been spiked with the antidote Gaius and him had finished earlier. George set the cup down on the table and turned to thank Arthur once more when his eyes grew wide. His hands flew up to cover his mouth but it was too late, a burp louder than anything Merlin had ever witnessed rumbled out of George right in front of the King. 

“My apologies, sire!” George said with face aflame before burping again. For a few moments he was thrown into a fit of burps and there was nothing anyone could do but stand and watch George suffer through it. Arthur tried his best not to laugh at his usually uptight servant out of politeness, and Merlin because he couldn't be caught in the room. Finally, George ceased to burp and took a deep breath. 

“Are you quite alright, George?” Arthur stepped closer to get a better look at the servant. 

“Yes, my lord,” hurried the servant, still embarrassed beyond belief. 

Arthur nodded his head and stared at the man. It seemed there would only be one way to tell if their potion did anything at all. He would have to try and upset George. It felt a bit like poking a slumbering bear, the man was little and non-threatening but he sure knew how to sulk, arguably he was even better than Merlin at it. 

“I must ask you to keep your bodily functions to yourself from now on, George. It upset me greatly what you just did.” 

“I’m so sorry, my lord. It won’t happen again!” George hurried, but he didn’t break down like he had in the past over smaller reprimands. 

“For your sake I hope it doesn’t. If not I may have to replace you … probably with Gareth.” Arthur watched George closely, there was no way enchanted George could take that without sobbing. 

His servant grew pale but much to his credit he didn’t sob, didn’t even tear up for that matter. “That won’t be necessary, sire,” he said and recuperated quickly, “Now, if my lord still wishes to bathe his bath is ready.” 

“I do, you’re dismissed.” 

George bowed and headed toward the door. 

“It worked!” exclaimed Merlin as soon as the door clicked shut. 

”It would appear so. Was the burping part of the plan?” Asked Arthur as he began to disrobe. 

“Well … not exactly. But what potion doesn’t have unforeseen side effects?” 

“Follow him around, and check for further side effects. If it works, you know what to do.” 

“Yes, sire. Enjoy your luxurious bath while the rest of us do work,” called Merlin over his shoulder and closed the door before Arthur could say anything back. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tailing George was something Merlin never thought he’d have to do and yet he did. After finding out about the effects of their potion and learning more about George than he would’ve liked to, he finally returned to Gaius’s tower. 

“I think it’s safe to say our potion is working, Gaius,” he said when the old man asked about his findings. 

“Anything we should correct before we make the final batch?” 

“Is there anything that prevents gas?” asked Merlin and Gaius’s brows lifted to his hairline. 

Hours later, under the cover of night, Merlin set about spreading the cure through the kingdom. This was a job that would have to be done covertly since there was no way a paranoid nation would believe they were enchanted, and if they even suspected sorcery as part of the cure, which they would, things could go belly up very quickly. Using invisibility Merlin spiked the the city’s mead and a little while later the underground well. Gaius and Merlin were hoping two sources would spread the cure in less than a week, which was about how much time it took for the enchantment to develop fully in the first place. 

Their potion did nothing other than cancel the effects of Morgana’s … and maybe make people a little more flatulent than normal, but for the life of him neither Gaius or him could figure out how to stop the potion from doing that. In the end Gaius had shrugged and said, “I suppose the enchantment just needs _some_ way out,” and the two had laughed at the absurdity of their situation. 

That night Merlin fell into his rickety cot with the feeling that he made real progress in this fight for the first time in a long time. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 **Two Days Before**

“Rise and shine!” said a voice and then someone was gripping Merlin’s shoulders and rudely yanking him from his warm bed. 

“Let go of me!” Merlin hissed and twisted out of Arthur’s hands. He tried to crawl back into bed only to have Arthur grab him by the hips and stand him up. 

“No time for sleep, Merlin. Lance, Percy, and Elyan just returned. They’re putting their stuff away and said they wanted to meet up with us as soon as possible.” 

Merlin groaned. Of course peace couldn’t last long. “Fine, but first I need to freshen up.” 

“You’re such a girl, Merlin,” Arthur said while rolling his eyes, “I want to see you in the council room as soon as your done. If I find out you went back to sleep, you’re in big trouble.” He poked a gloved finger at Merlin’s chest and really it wasn’t nearly as threatening as he meant it to be. 

For once in his life Merlin listened and soon enough he was making his way to the council rooms. On the way he met up with the three knights and together they went to meet with Arthur who was standing with Gwaine and Leon. 

“Glad to see you back,” said Gwaine and beckoned them over. 

“Glad to be back,” said Elyan. 

“And we’ve brought news,” added Percival sounding tense. 

“What is it?” asked Arthur. 

Lancelot rested his palms against the table and leaned forward. “In every place we went the talk was of the upcoming war. The timeline varied from anywhere between mere days and a month. It is almost certain that Camelot is who they plan to move against, and the knights are not happy. Cenred is said to be working with Morgause again, Morgana has not been sighted,” he finished.

“Where one goes, the other is never far behind,” said Merlin. 

“How goes the distribution of the cure, Merlin?” All the men turned to look at the warlock with expectant eyes. 

“It’s already begun, Gaius finished it up last night and I snuck into the tavern and well. However, much like the original enchantment it will take time to work and spread. I fear it may not have enough time to work before we’re at war.” 

“Will it have any effect at all?” questioned Leon. 

“It will, but the enchantment may not be fully gone. The knights would have to show an immense control over themselves to deal with whatever residual effects they’re having. I don’t know if they can do that.” 

“They’ll just have to,” said Arthur turning to look at each of the knights. “I’m counting on you to help me. Today you have authority to keep everyone in line. I also expect each of you to be examples to the others. We need to get our army functional _yesterday._ ” 

“Yes, sire,” came the united reply. Each knight stood tall and honorable and Merlin stared at them with admiration. 

Everyone filed out of the room and walked through the castle. They looked a force to be reckoned with as they stepped onto the field. For the first time in a long time Merlin had the pleasure of sitting on the side lines and watching his knights train. He looked like “Gareth” and so no squires or old knights approached him, but that just meant he got to watch training undisturbed. 

It may have just been his wishful thinking but it looked to him as if the knights were marginally more cooperative. They moved with little protest into the groups they were assigned, with a knight of the round table instructing the leader of each team. Each leader was teaching the men a different maneuver, defensive or offensive, and making the knights run the drill over and over. When Arthur was satisfied with the results he would call for rotation and they would move on to the next instructor. 

The sun moved along with the men until it cast long shadows across the grass. The knights were sparring against each other using everything they learned that day, and the knights of the round table moved between the men correcting every minute mistake. Merlin didn’t move from his spot the entire time, his eyes glued to the way Arthur commanded. He seemed to take a hold of a person with just his words, willing them to do as he ordered. 

Arthur caught Merlin looking and a smile threatened to peek through his stern face. He called Sir Leon over to spar with the knight he’d been instructing and stalked up to Merlin. He came to stand next to Merlin, so close their shoulders grazed each time one of them shifted. He watched his men work and felt a flutter of pride in his chest as they moved like a well oiled machine. 

“What do you think, Gareth?” asked Arthur. 

“I think you have yourself a group of very fine knights, sire.” 

Arthur smiled and nodded. “Do you think they’ve earned some rest?” 

“Yes. They earned it hours ago.” 

“I agree.” Arthur left Merlin’s side and walked to stand in front of the knights. “Attention!” 

The clanging of swords and grunts of exertion ceased at once and all eyes were turned on Arthur. “Sire!” They said as one. 

“You’ve done fine work today, men.” Arthur walked up and down with his hands behind his back, his hair gleaming in the waning sunlight. “Your training session has been completed for the day. You deserve some rest.” 

Scattered acknowledgments fluttered out from the crowd of knights and they began to break up and head their separate ways. They looked dead tired. Merlin wasn’t sure if their cooperation had more to do with the cure spreading or them being too tired to act up. Either way he was happy for it. 

“Ready to go?” asked Arthur as he walked past Merlin. 

“Where?” 

“My chambers of course. I’m starving.” 

“Is this your way of asking me to eat with you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gareth. Why would I let a peasant boy like you eat with me?” 

“Right, sire. My apologies.”

As Arthur walked through the halls with Merlin in tow, people whispered about the two of them. The blond young man known as Gareth had arrived only days ago but was now seen often by the king’s side. He didn’t seem to be anyone special but he received special treatment nonetheless. There were different rumors about what may have won Gareth special favor with the King, and as they walked toward the King’s chambers the rumor mill was only fed more material. 

Merlin, however didn’t notice. In some ways he’d always been naive and he assumed all the stares and whispers were due to Arthur. Even when he looked like himself people had whispered when he walked by with the King, it only made sense then that all the fuss was over Arthur and only Arthur. 

They arrived to Arthur’s chambers to find a soft fire burning and food being laid out on the table by George. The servant’s face fell when he laid eyes upon “Gareth” but restrained himself almost immediately.

“Sire. Your dinner is served and ready and by the time you finish your meal the bath will be the perfect temperature to bathe.” He pointed further into the chambers where Arthur’s bath sat steaming. 

“Well done, George,” Arthur said as he pulled at his sword belt with clumsy gloved fingers. As if it were second nature Gareth floated over and divested Arthur of it. 

Now that he was healing George felt no jealousy, but he was appalled anyway. One was never supposed to put their hands on a royal person unless explicitly asked to do so. From his experience as the King’s servant, Arthur didn’t enjoy help when it came to getting dressed or undressed. He waited for the King to yell at Gareth for his insolence, but instead the King simply lifted his arms out of the way like the boy had every right to do as he pleased. 

“You’re dismissed, George,” Arthur said turning to look at his servant who seemed to be frozen to the spot for some reason. 

“Yes, my lord,” he said and bowed. He glared at Gareth and left, no doubt to gossip with the rest of the servants in their quarters about this new Gareth fellow. In his opinion, Gareth was even worse than Merlin had been when it came to taking George’s job. Merlin had been assigned by King Uther himself, and although unfair, what was the boy to do? But Gareth? That boy walked right out of thin air and stole his job out from under his nose. 

Inside the chambers Merlin and Arthur were working to free the King of his clothes after Arthur basically ordered Merlin to cool his bath water to the right temperature. Merlin wanted to be irritated, he really did, but he could find nothing but a giddy sort of joy. Never would he have imagined that he would have Arthur demanding he use his magic. 

Merlin cooled the water and watched as Arthur lowered himself in. He couldn’t help but note the way Arthur’s back muscles tensed and released as he sank into the bath. The King rolled his neck and it cracked loudly. Merlin winced at the sound but Arthur didn’t even seem to notice. He was deep in thought about something and by the look on his face it wasn’t a bright and cheery topic. 

With care Merlin approached and sat next to Arthur on the stool. He took hold of the wash rag and dipped it into the warm water. “Arm,” he said in a low voice. 

Arthur raised his left arm and placed his wrist in Merlin’s open palm. Merlin began to scrub away the dirt and sweat collected from the long day of training. For a long time they did not speak, the only sound coming from Merlin’s occasional orders and the cloth moving rhythmically over Arthur. This was a familiar dance to both of them even though they hadn’t done it in a long time. Merlin would sit patiently and care for Arthur and then at one point Arthur would be able to articulate what was wrong. 

This time it happened only once Merlin was scrubbing at his back and he didn’t have to look Merlin in the face. “I’m scared.” 

“Of what?” Merlin kept the wash cloth moving in soothing circles over Arthur’s tired upper back.

There was no judgment in Merlin’s voice and it allowed Arthur to open up just a little more. “Morgana. I’m scared of what will happen when we meet again.” 

“That you will not defeat her?” 

“That I will,” he whispered like he was confessing a sin to the Gods. 

Merlin’s hand faltered for a moment and the room was silent. He ran the soapy rag over Arthur’s left shoulder and began to clean his chest. Arthur leaned back against the rim of the tub and he wondered if Merlin could feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. 

“She’s my sister, Merlin. After everything, she’s still my sister, and I wish I did not have to lose her. That it didn’t have to be me or her … is that wrong?” 

Merlin let his hand rest directly over Arthur’s heart, the cloth the only thing between them. “No. It’s not wrong … you love her. She was our friend once, I loved her too.” 

“But no more?” 

“I don’t have the right to. Not after what I did to her. As soon as I decided to poison her, I poisoned our friendship as well.” 

“You didn’t know what else to do. Everyone was falling under Morgause’s spell.” 

“The reason doesn’t matter now … she felt betrayed and turned to her sister for refuge. I started this all … and that is why I must end it.” 

Arthur sat up and turned in the water to look at Merlin. The evening darkness had fallen and the light of the fire swept over Merlin’s cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His eyes looked old and wise, like he’d lived forever and seen too much. “No,” Arthur said shaking his head, “I won’t let you do this.” 

“I’m the only one that can.” 

“Merlin … Morgana must die, but I don’t want it to be by your hand. You’ve done too much already.” 

“I’ve done more than you know,” said Merlin sounding eternal. “I am Emrys, Arthur. I am the high priestess’s doom. If there is anything I have learned is that destiny will find a way. The more you try to avoid it, the more it comes true.” 

“I can defeat her using Excalibur.” Arthur was desperate now, refusing to stain Merlin’s pale hands with even more blood. All the terrible things Merlin had ever done were for Arthur, and even though he’d never asked for them he knew they were inevitable because Arthur would do a million times worse for Merlin. 

Merlin dropped the rag and his hands came up to hold Arthur’s face as softly as one would caress a flower. “I was born to serve you, Arthur, and that is exactly what I plan to do for as long as I am alive. I will follow you into this battle, and into the next, and I will protect you as I always have, no matter what that means. I will fulfill my destiny and be there to see you fulfill your own.” 

There was naked reverence on Merlin’s face and Arthur found himself shaking under the attention. Arthur’s wet hands came up and wrapped around Merlin’s wrists. “Thank you,” was all he could say. The world was reduced to Merlin’s hands on his face and his hands on Merlin’s wrists. Only Merlin could make him feel this way, and Arthur knew it now with more certainty than he’d ever known anything else. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 **One Day Before**

At the break of dawn the raging sounds of hooves clicking against courtyard stone were the first warning that something was wrong. The scouts raced to the steps of the castle and flung themselves off their mounts. They were out of breath and evidently had ridden through the night but that did not slow them as they ran past the guards and toward the throne room. The King would not be there at this hour, but upon their arrival he was sent for immediately. Within moments Arthur was sweeping into the room with a billowing cloak and a young man hot on his heels. 

The men looked at the youth with caution but the King signaled them to speak. “It’s King Cenred, my Lord. His army has crossed our borders,” said one of the scouts. 

“He had thousands of men, sire, enough to rival our own numbers at the very least. The sorceress Morgause was also spotted. She led the army with him. Without rest they will reach our Kingdom in about a day," said the other.

Arthur nodded and his crown seemed to rest very heavily on his head. “You’ve served Camelot well.” 

“Are we to ride out again and track Cenred’s movements?” asked the first scout. 

“No. There is no need for you to endanger yourselves any further. Your informa8tion will be sufficient. Eat and rest. You’ll need it.” 

The men seemed confused, but their bodies were flagging and they wanted nothing more than to follow Arthur’s orders. They bowed and left the King behind, confident he would find the answers to their problems. 

Arthur walked out of the throne room and walked in silence with Merlin until they reached his chambers. Arthur paced back and forth, his mind visibly running through every possibility he could think of. “Show me Cenred’s army,” he said without pausing his pacing. 

Merlin made use of Arthur’s water basin and carried it over to the dinner table. It wasn’t ideal, but Merlin would make it work if it was the last thing he did. He muttered the words needed to scry and infused each word with magic. There was no sophistication to the spell, and he was reverting to using his power to enforce his will, but he found he did not care. Arthur came to stand next to him and when thousands of knights appeared on the water’s surface moving like a river of warriors the King’s eyes hardened. 

Merlin pushed their view over the men until they reached the front and found Cenred and Morgause. They did not speak, only pushed forward with a frightening confidence. They were sure of their victory, it was written in every corner of their face. 

“Track their movements, Merlin. Tell me if there are any new developments.” Arthur moved away from Merlin and toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” asked Merlin. 

Arthur stopped “I have an army to prepare.” 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“No. There’s nothing you can do there,” he said. It was not a rude statement, simply a true one. 

“Then there is something else I wish to do, but I will only do it if you allow it.” 

“What is it?” 

A short conversation later Merlin found himself in the armory. All the weapons they used in times of war sat inside upon racks of swords or hung on the wall. Arthur was out on the field directing his knights in their prewar prep, this bought him just enough time. “Fýrbendum fæst,” said Merlin and secured the doors shut. 

Merlin made his way through the room spelling the weapons to be as useful as possible in battle. The swords were made sharp and strong to cut and parry. The shields were made resistant and light. The crossbows were charmed for accuracy and speed. Maces were made durable and accurate. Even the weapons he didn’t know much about he spelled with protection for the user. He did not stop until he’d spelled or charmed every piece of equipment. 

When he finally finished he lay with his limbs sprawled over the floor and his eyes closing. He was surprisingly tired. He began to drift off only to be jerked awake by a deep rumbling voice. 

_Merlin_

“Kilgharrah?” he asked, sitting up. 

_Young Warlock_ , the voice called once more. 

Merlin concentrated until he fell that vertigo inducing connection take hold of his soul. His mind was one with the dragon’s. _I am here, Kilgharrah._

_You must come to me at once, we have limited time._

_Are you alright?_ Merlin asked. He tried to gage how Kilgharrah was feeling but the sentiment was too immense and foreign for him to understand. 

_Come to me._

In an instant the connection was gone and Merlin stood and dusted his breeches. His eyes flashed gold and the doors burst open. On the other side of the door stood Arthur and a dozen knights. The men startled and Arthur looked ready to punch Merlin for his carelessness. The two held their breaths but the men seemed to deem the incident insignificant in the face of looming war. They passed Arthur and headed for the weapons, finding the one that they would be using to fight for their kingdom and their life. 

“I have to go,” whispered Merlin as he passed Arthur. The King did not stop him. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin met Kilgharrah besides a rocky hill, the dragon's hide blending in with its natural surroundings. 

“The war has commenced.” 

“I know.” 

“You don’t.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“The witch will come and unless you open your eyes she will sit upon the throne before you realize she has arrived.” 

“Morgause? We’re tracking her closely, Kilgharrah. We’ll be prepared for her arrival.” 

“You will, but only if you find the true war.” 

Merlin could feel Kilgharrah’s frustration radiating off of him in waves. In the past Merlin would’ve been angry at the creatures riddles, but now he knew better than to think Kilgharrah is doing it on purpose. He knows his dragon is being as clear as he can be, that to him his words make perfect sense and there is no way to put it simpler. He touched Kilgharrah’s snout and pats softly. “I’m missing something aren’t I?” 

“You always are.” 

“Then I will stay alert. I will take your warning to heart.” The dragon calmed a little at the promise and pushed into Merlin’s affections. “I have something you must know as well.” 

Kilgharrah blinked lazily and stared at Merlin with giant golden eyes. Merlin called upon their bond and felt the fire in his veins, but it did not burn with the fury it used to. Now it flicked like a candle trying to stay aflame against the wind in his old age. He let Kilgharrah feel his true emotions as he spoke. “You’ve been with me since I was a boy. You have saved me more times than I can count. You have done your duty to me, my dragon.” 

“Are you setting me free?” 

“Free from your duty, not free from our family.” 

“You have wised beyond your years, young warlock.” 

“With your help.” 

“Then let me offer you one last piece of knowledge. I am not the only one free of duty.” The great dragon bowed his head until his snout touched the floor in a sign of respect. Merlin bowed back and watched as the dragon’s wings were spread to their extravagant width. With each flap of wings the great beast lifted off the soil. 

“Goodbye … old friend.” Merlin watched until his dragon was nothing but a speck in the blue sky, then he walked back home feeling surprisingly heavy.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

“They haven’t moved in hours,” said Merlin. 

“It makes no sense. Why would they stop in that valley? It gives us the higher ground.” Arthur looked down at the map Merlin had marked showing Cenred’s travel and finally his stopping point.

“Perhaps they have a way to defend from the ground? There are sorcerers among the knights. I know a few spells they could use against our archers.” 

“So they plan to catch us off guard with magic and make us go down into the valley with them?” asked Elyan

“It would appear so …” said Merlin, something nagging at him. 

“Then we’ll surprise them as well. We’ve got a few things they don’t know about,” added Gwaine, looking pointedly at Merlin.

Arthur let the map roll closed and grasped the hilt of his sword. “We’ve been preparing for this day for some time now. It came sooner than expected, but we are prepared. Does everyone still remember their assignments?” 

The knights of the round table nodded their affirmations and stood at the ready. 

“Well then, men. It’s time to go to war.”


	10. The Battle of Emyrs and The Once and Future King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war must be fought but not all goes as planned.

Deploying an army was never a quick and easy business but with careful planning Camelot’s army found itself on its way toward the enemy by mid morning. The soldiers moved on foot, following steadily behind King Arthur who rode on a black charger. Flanking him on their own war horses were Sir Percival, Sir Elyan, and Sir Lancelot. Together they led the rows of warriors down a wide dirt road used by merchants toward the valley past a thickly wooded band of forest. 

Back in Camelot Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine had been assigned to lead the Knights Lord Eldren provided to aid his King in protecting the citadel. By now Arthur knew better than to leave Camelot completely unguarded.

Merlin had a role of his own to play in all of this but a peasant boy doesn’t get to ride up front with the King and his Knights so still under the disguise of Gareth he tagged along with Gwen and Gaius in the back; helping to guide the packed mares and their attached wagons with medical supplies and tents. No one spoke but Merlin tried sending Gwen reassuring smiles every once in a while. It was precisely as he looked back to give her a steadying glance that he bumped into the knight in front of him and barely managed to halt the mare he was pulling along before it too rammed into the man. He was comforted briefly by Gwen having to stifle a small chuckle. 

At his distance he could make out nothing of Arthur but he was there when they strategized their travel and its evident this is when they veer off the beaten path and make their trek into the forest. The men trickle into the trees like water finding its way between pebbles at the bottom of a stream. 

Merlin shuffled impatiently on his spot in the dirt road kicking up small clouds of dust as the rows in front of him mobilized. Finally it was his turn and he began pulling his mare along while anxiously gritting his teeth. This band of forest would be their final destination before the valley and Merlin couldn’t stand the anticipation. He just wanted this all to be over. To see how Arthur was coping up at the front. 

The bright open space became oppressive and dim as the men walked the narrow pathways created by the trees and plants. Under the cover of foliage the leaden tension they’d all seemed to be carrying dissipated and quiet murmuring flourished. By the time every soldier was well hidden within the confines of the forest the set up of tents began. 

Merlin marveled at the way the forest was saturated with soldiers yet hid them so well. Past the tree line stretched a long clearing of land which overlooked the valley. Flush against where the treeline met the clearing was where men worked hastily to erect the tents. Merlin weaseled his way through the crowd and offered his help in setting up. Using this guise is how he snuck into Arthur’s own royal tent. 

There was no plan to stay there very long and so all luxuries were foregone. Arthur’s maps were rolled out on the flattened ground and held in place by four heavy rocks. Lancelot was down on one knee next to Arthur nodding as the King spoke. 

“Your archers will be set up along this ridge of land before the valley, it’ll give you optimal vision over the field and a good distance.” Arthur worried at his bottom lip as his eyes scrutinized the crude maps looking for every strength and every weakness he’d missed. 

Lancelot looked up to Merlin and although he was cloaked to look like Gareth Lancelot recognized the dirty blond hair and almond eyes as his friend in an instant, “Merlin-”

“Gareth,” Arthur corrected without looking up. 

Ever the respectful and noble knight Lancelot resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stood. “Gareth, everything alright?” 

Merlin smiled and nodded, his eyes glittering with amusement at Arthur’s unnecessary worrying. “I just need a private place to scry again.” 

At that Lancelot clapped Merlin on the shoulder and excused himself to go ready the men under his command. 

Arthur huffed and finally looked up at the warlock, “Would you like to say that a little louder so the army out there can hear you, _Mer_ lin?” 

Seemingly producing a small clay bowl from the air behind his back Merlin walked over to the map and plopped it square in the center. “I think you mean Gareth, sire.” 

Arthur’s lips thinned and he hid his amusement behind mock annoyance, “Just get to work, _Gareth_.”

With a summoning spell that filled the bowl with water and a few whispered words that sent a ripple through the liquid the valley below came into view. The ground was dotted with men donning the dark colors of Essetir resting and readying their weapons for the fight to come. At the very back of it all sat an ostentatious tent that could belong to none other than Cenred. 

“Look inside,” Arthur whispered even though Merlin had already explained to him that the person on the other end could not hear them unless he made it so. 

Inside the tent sat Cenred and Morgause, the King staring skeptically at his blonde companion. Morgause leaned toward Cenred and clasped his knee, “She’ll be here and she’ll bring it.” 

Cenred’s eyes fell to her hand but his mind remained on topic, “Why isn’t she here already?” 

“Because she doesn’t need to be. She will arrive for the battle and that’ll be more than enough. What would you have her do now, sharpen swords?” There was condescension in Morgause’s voice as she sat back in her chair, her hand being snatched away from his leg with irritation. 

The loss of contact seemed to distress Cenred and he softened at once, “You’re right of course, I’m simply anxious to meet the creature. I’ve never seen one in real life.” 

“They’re unimpressive,” Morgause sighed, “But effective. You’ll get the destruction you desire.” 

Cenred smiled at her and opened his mouth to express his delight when she rudely shushed him. Her vision snapped up and Merlin and Arthur sucked in a breath as it seemed she stared them in the face. _She can’t see us … can she?_ Merlin wondered and sat frozen in place. Beside him Arthur swallowed hard. 

“What is it, Morgause?” Cenred asked. 

The blonde woman’s rigid shoulders seemed to relax but a small smirk pulled at her lips as her gaze continued to penetrate Merlin and Arthur. “Nothing, I believed I felt a presence. I suppose it’s just the paranoia of a soldier.” Then she turned her eyes back to the King and smiled languidly. She didn’t so much as glance in their direction again. 

Arthur dipped his hand in the water shattering the image. “Could she see us?” 

“No …” Merlin answered. Arthur’s jaw clenched and he gave Merlin a look that threatened his safety. “While that was incredibly creepy I just don’t see how she would’ve seen us. Even if she suspected she was being scryed she wouldn’t have the means to see us … you can’t just do that.”

Arthur opened his mouth to give Merlin an earful about how useless he was when her words began to register. “Who do you think she’s talking about?” He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he already knew. 

Merlin clenched his jaw and debated telling Arthur what Kilgharrah prophesied during their last meeting. “I might have some idea.” 

“What is it?” The King tried to keep his calm. He needed Merlin to realize he could be trusted, that they could work as a team.

“Remember I ran off earlier?” 

“Yes, and?” Arthur’s patience was beginning to run out. 

Merlin fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. “I spoke to the great dragon. He warned me about some stuff.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?” Arthur hissed. So much for staying calm. “Tell me what he said. Now.” 

“Well nothing helpful! Just his usual rambling. He said “The witch will come and unless you open your eyes she will sit upon the throne before you realize she has arrived.” He also said something about finding the “true war.” I didn’t tell you because I have no clue what it means.” 

Arthur ran callused hands over his face and groaned with exhaustion. “Alright, could he mean Morgana when he says “the witch” or perhaps Morgause?” 

“Oh!” Merlin exclaimed and sat up a little, “Perhaps he was warning us about Morgana’s miraculous entrance if Morgause’s words are anything to go by.” 

The King nodded his head and wagged his finger at Merlin, “You’re onto something here.” 

Suddenly the energy drained from Merlin. “I bet I know what ‘creature’ they were discussing.” 

“Aithusa?” Arthur asked. 

For a moment Merlin was taken aback by Arthur knowing that name and well yes he’d mentioned Aithusa more than once in their conversations but he wasn’t quite used to Arthur having knowledge about his life, much less the magical aspects of it. “I’d say so. I thought I’d gotten him to change .... that we bonded.” 

Arthur watched as Merlin seemed to hunch in on himself like someone punched him in the gut. “I thought so too,” was the best consolation he could come up with. 

“Kilgharrah told me he wasn’t the only one “free of duty.” Does that mean that nothing I did with Aithusa was real? Do you think he still hates me?” 

“No,” Arthur said so quickly he almost cut Merlin off. “Maybe everything isn’t quite as it seemed but that doesn’t mean Aithusa hates you. You’ll get through to him Merlin, he just needs time.” 

Merlin met Arthur’s eyes and there was a deep sorrow within them. “If I can’t get him to listen to me … I don’t want to have to hurt him, Arthur.” 

The blond stood and dusted off his knees before offering Merlin a hand. “You won’t have to.”

Merlin’s eyes bounced between Arthur’s hand and his face. He looked confident, sure in a way Merlin never was. He didn’t know why, only that he believed him. Merlin clasped his forearm and allowed himself to be pulled up. He went to pull away only to find Arthur’s grip remained on his arm. He turned back to look at him, a dark brow rising in question. 

There was a stern expression on the blond’s face when he spoke. “You’re not going down to the battlefield with me.” 

A look of surprise passed over Merlin’s face, but only for an instant before it turned into total outrage. He yanked his forearm out of Arthur’s grasp and glared. “And why the hell not?” 

“You might get hurt, and then of what use are you to me?” 

“Arthur we’ve been through this! I can take care of myself. In fact, I can take care of both of us!” 

“No, Merlin. You are to stay at a distance and help from there. It only makes more strategic sense with your magic.”

“What the hell would you know about my magic?” Merlin almost laughed, completely bewildered. 

“I need you to keep an eye out for Morgana, Morgause, and Aithusa. You’re the only one who can stop them. That’ll be your job.” 

Merlin cheeks went bright red, “No! My job is making sure you don’t die. How am I supposed to keep track of you down there?” 

“Can’t you just do some magic?” Arthur asked, his voice almost dismissive as if Merlin’s question was stupid. Spotting the way Merlin trembled with anger in his boots he sighed and faced him.

Merlin turned away from Arthur, his hands tugging at his coal black hair. “You are absolutely infuriating!! Why would you wait until now to tell me?” 

“Because it’s a small detail,” Arthur said and it was obvious he knew it was a lie. They both knew he did it because Merlin wouldn’t agree and he was putting it off as much as he could. “You are to find a safe place on high ground and conduct your business from there.” 

“No! I’d be more useful on the ground.” 

“To who?” Arthur asked. 

“What do you mean to who?” Merlin snapped, spinning around and locking eyes with Arthur. “To you!” There was anger in Merlin’s voice, and perhaps even a little hurt. Most of all though, there was worry. 

Arthur sighed and came closer to Merlin, allowing him his own personal space but not an inch more. His eyes softened as they tracked over Merlin’s expression. “Merlin, I want to keep you safe just as much as you want to keep me safe.” 

A little bit of the tension in Merlin’s body fell away and he searched Arthur’s eyes but Arthur didn’t let him in. He was being kind, but there was a sort of barrier he’d built up, a sharp reminder that Arthur was King and his decision was final. “Then let me keep you safe,” Merlin replied, his nostrils flaring with emotion. 

The words made an almost visible crack in the mask Arthur donned and he closed his eyes for a second to steady himself. When he opened his eyes he reached for Merlin and to his surprise Arthur didn’t pat him on the shoulder or clasp his bicep; he slid a gloved hand into Merlin’s and held it instead. 

“I know you’re powerful Merlin, but we both know you’re rubbish with any kind of weapon other than magic.” The tease pulled the smallest of smiles from Merlin but he refused to budge so easily. He stayed silent while Arthur continued, “You’ve been in fights before but never in the middle of a war and you would get hurt, Merlin. There’s no doubt in my mind. But up high?” Arthur said and let his voice grow a little lighter, “No one could harm you. And you could keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t do anything too stupid.” 

“I hate you,” Merlin said, and it was clear in his tone that he’d been defeated by logic. How pesky logic was. 

“I hate you too,” Arthur said with a grin but it didn’t sound like _I hate you_ at all. 

Merlin felt his face heating up but he refused to look away from Arthur’s smile, it’d been missing for too long. “Can I … charm your armour one last time? Just to be safe?” 

Arthur chuckled and let go of Merlin’s hand, “Go ahead worry wart.” 

Merlin huffed a laugh and ever so tenderly leaned forward. His lips grazed Arthur’s in a barely there touch but magic sparked anyway. Gold washed over Arthur in a refreshing wave of affection. He couldn’t tell if he was dizzy from Merlin’s magic or his mouth but the world tilted pleasantly. “There. You’re ready,” Merlin whispered and fled the tent, afraid that if he didn't leave then he wouldn't be able to part from Arthur's side. The King shook himself out of his daze and went his own way, briefly wondering how it could be he didn’t realize his feelings for the warlock sooner. 

  


\----------------------------

  


Outside gloomy clouds had begun rolling in. They blanketed the sky and blocked the sun throwing the valley into a surreal dimness. Despite the clouds the air was hot and dry, there would be no relief for the arid land below and its rust colored dirt. 

It was a nauseating feeling to watch Arthur lead his men out of the trees and down a deep ridge in the side of the valley, effectively spitting them out opposite of the enemy. High on his chosen bluff Merlin watched with rapt attention as Arthur’s golden head moved through the valley seeming to glow even under the dull skies.

Cenred’s own men assembled at the first sight of Camelot’s army. By the time Arthur was fully in the belly of the beast there were two armies facing each other, sizing the other up with tense shoulders and hardened eyes. Cenred was not leading his men as Arthur did, in his place was only his first Knight. The King of Essetir remained far back, untouchable on a little hill of his own. A smug look sat on Cenred’s face, his almost laughing demeanor a chilling juxtaposition to the bloody war that would take place. 

Merlin’s heart chattered away in his chest as his eyes ran over the landscape. Cenred’s confidence was written in every line of his body, a bad sign for Arthur if Merlin had ever seen one, and he’d seen many. Magic bubbled under his skin, attracted to the magic of Cenred’s sorcerers. He closed his eyes and let the feeling expand, effectively pinpointing their positions down below. When his eyes blinked open again it was with a shimmering gold. They flicked back to Arthur whose hand was in the air. 

On the ridge Lancelot’s arm was mirroring the movement precisely, signalling for his men to get ready. The row of archers moved in unison. Boots went into stirrups to cock the crossbows, their small clicks deafening in the eerie silence that had fallen over the valley. The gleaming heads of the bolts were pointed into the looming clouds above and with the swift swoop of Lancelot’s arm triggers were pulled, the twangs of release echoing down the line.

The bolts soared toward the sky and slowed, almost pausing, before twirling in the air like lithe dancers and beginning to fall toward Essetir’s Knights in the valley. Cenred’s men looked up at the oncoming storm of bolts yet did not move an inch. Miraculously a few feet from their unprotected heads the weapons stopped their descent. The slamming of hundreds of bolts against an unforeseen force field echoed in the valley. Each point of contact between bolt and shield glowed a brilliant blue depicting every place an arrow had been blocked. 

A voice dared to break the tense silence that’d taken over the men, a single word ringing loud and clear from Cenred’s first Knight. “ATTACK!” 

Just like that Camelot had made the wrong move and Essetir’s army was advancing with a war cry. The six sorcerers ran right alongside the rest of the warriors, their hands in the air channeling power to the shield. With each passing moment the shield grew a more resplendent blue. 

Merlin’s eyes fell shut again and he focused on the magical vibrations of the universe. He could see all that was hidden before. Everything turned inky black, but the essence of magic glittered through the abyss. Each sorcerer in the valley just a ball of glowing light, their magic floating up and pooling into the shield. His magic exploded out in golden ribbons that skittered through the blackness. They smashed into each sorcerer and wrapped around in a pretty knot, choking off the power they syphoned into the shield. It's blue magic flickered like a candle struggling to stay alight on a windy night.

From his position on the ridge Lancelot saw the failing protection. He understood it as the opportunity it was and took it. Another onslaught of bolts whistled through the skies and this time they rained down with ferocity and death. Cenred’s men cried out in anguish and fell to their knees while their comrades lifted their shields to create a physical barrier between themselves and defeat. Whoever fell victim to a bolt was stomped over and forgotten. Cenred’s men were off guard and that was all the opening Arthur needed.

“FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!” Arthur’s cry reverberated through the valley like the roar of a ferocious lion.

The footfalls of thousands upon thousands of warriors shook the very soil as they followed their King into the ultimate show of faith. The knights of the round table careened toward the enemy and collided with slashing swords. Bright red blood ran the moment the rivals made contact, spilling from Knights of Camelot and Essetir without discrimination.

In that moment, Arthur was Moses and his staff Excalibur. He pushed his charger forward and parted the Red Sea made of warriors with fierce swings and guttural cries. Within a few breaths Arthur found himself surrounded by men who wished him dead. He didn’t spot the knight coming, but he was big and strong and he wanted to make it home to his wife and children so he fought like a rabid beast. The knight swung his long sword and slashed the horse’s front legs right out from under it, the snapping of bones audible even through the chaos. The horse crashed to the ground hard and its sharp neighs and rebukes made Arthur want to tear the man’s head off.

Arthur never liked to see an animal in pain but there was no time to put it out of its misery because as soon as his well polished boots hit the dirt a sword was ringing past his head. Arthur dipped and brought Excalibur up just in time. Metal and metal clanged and grunts of exertion were thrown back and forth as they struggled. A body came sprawling from the left and knocked Arthur off balance on its way to its resting place. The Knight took the opportunity to start hacking at Arthur with his sword. He had strength and speed to spare and Arthur could barely keep up as he was forced down to his knees. 

“Aaargh!” The Knight growled and heaved his hands above his head to stake Arthur to the ground with his sword. 

That was a mistake. Arthur bounded up from his place in the dirt, Excalibur cruising through the man’s intestines like butter. He drove it in deep, until his shoulder touched the man’s chest and he could see the bloodied shape of his blade coming out of his back. With a twist and a wet _schluck_ the man slid off of his sword and Arthur swiveled around to meet his next aggressor.

Like an actual bird of prey Merlin stood high oh his perch and surveyed the land below. With flicks of the wrist and split second flashes of gold in his pupils he controlled the magic users on the field, preventing them from using their power on those who were helpless against it. Simultaneously he searched feverishly for Morgause or Morgana. The blonde terror seemingly disappeared since he last saw her in the tent, even her magic felt hidden to him. Morgana was as much of a ghost to him, her presence nowhere he searched. 

All at once magic surged within him, thrashing against his body like the tides being pulled by the moon. As if a giant hand plunged itself into his magical realm and pulled him back into the real word Merlin surfaced into the land of color and matter. His eyes snapped toward where his magic so desperately pointed him and settled upon two great warriors with shining golden hair. Morgause and Arthur faced each other, their stances equally confident and ready. Merlin didn’t know how, only that within a moment sounds amplified and he could hear their voices crystal clear. 

“This ends here,” Arthur declared. 

“For you.” Morgause began to edge toward Arthur, her posture hunched and close to the ground like a cat waiting to pounce. 

Arthur followed the movement and they circled one another slowly as they spoke. “But not you?” 

“Dying on this battlefield is your destiny not mine.” 

Seeing an opening Arthur rushed forward and slashed at her. Morgause evaded his blade with grace and swung her sword at his right side. He spun, avoiding the sharp edge of her weapon and wheeled around to hack at her legs. She jumped over his attack and thrust her sword with hurried aim. It clanged against the hauberk of his left shoulder and sent him staggering back with a hiss. 

Merlin knew he should be searching for Morgana or Aithusa but he couldn’t look away. He outstretched his hands toward Morgause ready to curse her with a quick and violent death but before he could there was another figure sneaking up behind Arthur. The words dying in his throat as he made out the form. 

“It is a shame I won’t be here to watch you die, little Pendragon. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of Camelot for you.” With a cynical smile Morgause's eyes grew golden and magical words were hissed out.

Merlin recognized the spell Adhara had taught him and his stomach roiled as he felt her magic finally become palpable. It expanded from her in a way that made him dizzy and as suddenly as it’d become present it was vacuumed back into her body. In the blink of an eye her magic was gone once more … and so was she. 

Arthur seemed to be dazed by her disappearance, Excalibur held firmly in his fist, ready for her to come out of nowhere and attack. A different voice rang behind him. 

“A pleasure to see you again, Arthur.” Mordred’s tone was bitter and in his hand was a sword of his own gleaming in an unnatural manner. 

“Mordred,” the King whispered as he turned and saw the boy. The amount of pain and hatred etched in his young features hurt Arthur as much as an actual blow. 

“You killed, Kara,” was all Morded replied. Then, as if Merlin had called to Mordred loud and clear the young druid turned his head and made eye contact with the warlock, his disguise not fooling him for a second. **I see you’ve returned from your cowering, Emrys.**

With a thought the flow of time bent to Merlin’s will and everyone in the valley was frozen mid-battle except for the three of them. His gaze was that of a wolf as he glared at Mordred. The young druid smirked and turned slowly in his spot with complete disregard of Arthur behind him. He nodded slowly as if Merlin’s power were a simple trick to be amused at. “You can’t save him, Emrys. It may be your destiny to protect him, but it is mine to end him.” 

“Enough,” Arthur growled. He could not see Merlin’s face, but he knew the upset those words would stir within him. 

“Where is Morgause?” Merlin asked, his voice like thunder coming from the gray clouds above. Arthur’s breath hitched at the display of power. 

Mordred smiled and despite the blood and gore around him it looked joyful. “You know exactly where she is, Emrys.” 

Arthur’s eyes remained trained on Mordred as he spoke, “What is he talking about Merlin?” 

When he answered Arthur his voice no longer sounded like thunder itself, instead it was like the wind whispering in his ear, each word filled with guilt. “Morgause … I had it all wron--” 

Mordred seethed in his spot, the grip on his sword tightening.“You waste my time!” The silver of his weapon forged in a dragon’s breath sang through the air, aimed straight for Arthur’s left side. 

Ice water ran through Merlin’s veins as he watched the weapon travel the distance between Mordred and Arthur. It was exactly like the vision he’d been given in the crystal caves. He was frozen to the spot as he experienced Arthur’s loss before it even happened.

At the very last moment Excalibur rose, gleaming and unwavering to block Mordred’s thrust. Merlin’s knees gave out with relief as he watched Arthur defend himself. His magic became turbulent with emotion and he struggled to rein it in for fear he’d obliterate Arthur right along with Mordred. With trembling limbs he pushed himself off the ground and took off stumbling down the steep side of the valley toward the pair.

Mordred was unrelenting with his weapon. The _sching, CLANG, sching, CLANG, sching_ of their swords colliding over and over the only sound Arthur could hear. Mordred was quaking with pent up anger, his cheeks blotchy and red. He would look so much like a child throwing a tantrum if it wasn’t for the anguish carved into his sneer and the tears that glimmered in his eyes. Arthur can’t bring himself to attack the young man so he grits his teeth and uses two hands to block the flurry of blows. 

“Surrender yourself, Mordred!” Arthur shouted as he jumped out of the way of the boy’s sharp blade. He shuffled back and pointed the length of Excalibur at Mordred’s chest as a warning for the druid to stay away.

“I can’t! I won’t!” His objections came out ragged with agony. The enchantment had been festering within Mordred so long the only thing he knew was the pain of losing Kara. Tears brimmed in his eyes and his chest heaved. The enchantment whispered at the back of his mind, black and full of blood lust: The only way to rest is to kill the man who took her life. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. 

As soon as the broken words left Mordred’s mouth Arthur’s battle hardened features softened around the edges. He thought back to his charger, back to its shattered legs and its distressed neighs. He hadn’t had the opportunity to spare it the pain of its injuries … what should he do now?

Arthur lunged forward, impaling Mordred’s gut with Excalibur before the young man could so much as flinch. Small gasps escaped from the boys lips as understanding overcame him. Arthur’s left arm wrapped around Mordred’s back and held him to his chest. 

The two fell to their knees and Mordred looked into Arthur’s eyes. Arthur dislodged Excalibur with a quick jerk. Mordred’s sword fell to the dirt with a muted thump and his hands came to rest against the chestplate over Arthur’s heart. As blood spilled from his wound the black haze of enchantment slipped away from his mind. His eyes glittered with unshed tears as he slumped to the dirt. “Sire ...” 

“Don’t speak.” Arthur knelt next to Mordred and gripped his forearm tight, unsure of what to do.

“No,” Mordred rasped out, “I betrayed you.” Now the tears fell freely and it hit Arthur just how young Mordred was. At only fifteen summers old his life would reach its end. Small whimpers left his mouth and he cried just like the child he was. 

“You are not to blame for your madness,” whispered Arthur, absolving the child’s sins as he brushed black curls away from clammy skin. Since his arrival Mordred was something special to Arthur, like a son or a brother. He had talent with a sword and displayed staunch loyalty every second he was in his right mind. 

Mordred refused to accept Arthurs kind words. He shook his head and scrunched his eyes closed to avoid looking at Arthur’s face. He’d betrayed his King. Left him behind and gone back to Morgana, joined in the fight to destroy everything Arthur was going to build. “I’m s-sorry,” he gurgled. The tangy taste of iron began creeping onto his tongue. 

Arthur grabbed Mordred’s face and held it until the boy opened his eyes. They were glossy and distant when they found his own. “You were always loyal. This wasn’t your fault. You will die a knight of Camelot. You will die with my respect.” 

Mordred huffed a silent and pained laugh, his teeth stained orange with blood. “A kn-knight,” he breathed as if Arthur presented him with a beautiful gift, “Thank you … sire.” He convulsed and cried out, blood bubbling up higher in his throat and spilling from the corners of his mouth. Finally he stilled, his expression lacking all the earlier strife, his eyes open and staring into a place the living could not see.

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat and smoothed a gloved hand over Mordred’s pale face to close his eyes. He’d lost Mordred, but also freed him from a kind of hell Arthur understood too well. He could only hope Mordred was really at peace. 

Arthur stood and stepped away from Mordred. Now it was time to free everyone from whatever Morgana and Morgause wanted to inflict upon them. It was eerie to look around the field at the bodies frozen in action. Men instants from death, but still alive. Then came footsteps and Arthur turned to see Merlin himself. 

“Arthur,” Merlin wheezed as he neared. He was winded and his eyes wild with panic. He met the stormy blue eyes of his other half.

“Where is Morgause?” Arthur asked.

There was a soft wavering in each of Merlin’s words as he explained, “She’s teleported to Camelot. She must’ve lied to Cenred, Morgana was never coming, their target was the Kingdom all along.” 

Arthur hated the uncertainty Merlin tried to hide. When would the idiot understand it wasn’t his sole responsibility to solve it all. “Are we too late?” 

Merlin’s mouth gaped open at the “we” but he composed himself soon enough. “I don’t think so no.” 

“Then we can still fix this. Are you ready?”

Merlin inhaled sharply and shook his head, “You’re not giving up on me yet, are you dollop-head?” The joke was stilted and didn’t fit the occasion at all, and Arthur couldn’t have been more grateful for it. 

Arthur looked at Merlin with surety in his eyes. “I have complete faith in you. That’s why I’m entrusting my Kingdom to you.” 

Merlin’s eyes grew impossibly wide and he tried to form a sentence but nothing came out. 

“I’ll stay here and lead my men.” 

“Arth-”

“How fast can you get there?” 

Merlin’s mouth opened and closed a few times, a struggle clearly taking place in his mind. Before Arthur had the chance to yell at him he stilled and his gaze hardened. “There’s a spell. The one Morgause used… I could be there in an instant but … I don’t have it under control yet. I might not make it to Camelot at all.” 

A smile graced Arthur’s lips, it was full of challenge and softness in that way that only Arthur could manage. “If that crazy wench can do it so can you. Now quit stalling and do it. That’s an order from your King.”

Sometimes Merlin hated that Arthur could read him as well as he could read Arthur. Yet, there was only one response that could be given to a command. “Yes, sire.” 

Merlin closed his eyes and began to speak. Arthur recognized the words but they held a meaning he could not decipher. Still they flowed from Merlin as naturally as water cascading down a waterfall and soon pure energy vibrated in the air around them, Arthur shuddered at the sensation. As he uttered the very last words of the teleportation spell his eyes sprang open and met those of his King. Their golden glow illuminated his pale features under the dark stormy sky. 

“Stay safe,” Merlin said and then promptly phased out of existence.

Arthur would have stood in awe for days, except he had no time for such things because as soon as Merlin disappeared the fighting around him erupted into life once more.

  


\------------------------------

  


Time and space proved to be a foreign concept as Merlin landed in different locations. He tried to reel in his mind and magic to find the destination he was searching for … but what was it again? Oh, right. Camelot! He wanted to get to Camelot. The sights around him changed once more and in a moment he found himself standing at the gates of the Kingdom. He blinked his eyes rapidly and shook his head to get a clear view of his surroundings. For a few seconds he was able to admire white stone walls and turrets ... then promptly passed out.

If Merlin wasn’t so out of it from over extending himself he would have noticed far more than just the architecture. All the citizens were hidden within their huts in the lower town. Aithusa flew over the Kingdom like a predator waiting for his prey to make the wrong move. Far below stood the knights of Camelot that’d been left behind to guard the citizens. They were low in numbers and there was nothing they could do against a dragon. Still they wagged their spears against the winged creature in the sky in a show of primitive intimidation. 

Aithusa wasn’t the least bit intimidated, but he was happy to let them think their pointed sticks could keep him at bay. His first directive had been to corral people into their homes and distract the small army of knights left behind so that Morgana and Morgause could do as they needed inside the castle and save magic from the evil clutches of this Kingdom. As long as the humans with the shiny metal clothing were looking up at him, it meant that they weren’t looking at Morgana. Besides, Morgana had promised him he’d get to wreck stuff too and Aithusa was good at being patient. That was yet another great characteristic he learned from him benevolent yet naive Lord Merlin. 

Deep within the castle, sitting on the throne was Morgana. In the throne room a crystalline sphere the height of a tall man floated in the middle of the room as lightly as a bubble, inside of it the battle being depicted. Aside from the sisters, five other magic users stood lined against one of the stone walls of the room. They were all there for their own reasons, but would serve the duo’s purpose just fine. 

Morgana sat seething and trembling upon the throne as she looked at Mordred’s broken body. Her heart stuttered against her ribs as she recalled the boys last moments. She had been betrayed. Again. With a flick of her wrist the image of Mordred and Arthur poofed out of existence, leaving the sphere blank and empty. 

“Now, now, dear sister,” Morgause spoke and waved a delicately gloved hand in the air, “We must grieve later. After all it seems the boy wasn’t as devoted to you as you were to him.” 

That was the wrong thing to say, for as soon as the words were out in the open Morgana turned a deadly glare on her sister. “I do not grieve traitors,” Morgana spat. In truth Morgana’s heart had been broken.

“Good. We have got to maintain focus, things have taken a turn after all.” 

Morgana shot up from her seat, her heels clicking as she stomped toward Morgause. “That ‘turn’ is Merlin, which you promised would not return.” Her voice was low and threatening as she inched closer to Morgause who's face remained impassive, “He fooled you with a flimsy disguise!”

Morgause had no excuse because truly she had been fooled. “He has revealed himself and that was his greatest mistake. He will die along with his master. As for now ... we haven’t a moment to lose.” That was the nicest way Morgause could think to say shut up and without paying Morgana any mind she swiped her hand through the air, the bubble lighting up again with images of the war. The knights were fighting once more, no one sat frozen in time. 

Morgause walked closer to the sphere and her eyes began to burn with magic. At one time there may have been a merciful part of Morgause, but she’d been through too much, done too much to remain any part of the idealistic young woman who wanted to free magic. Through the years her heart corrupted a bit more with hatred until finally there was a gaping emptiness that she thought the revenge of magic would fill. She was a black hole as she extended her hands toward the sphere and touched its surface with the pads of her gloved hands. Her lips began to move around a quiet incantation. Morgana neared her sister to hear the words, curiosity surpassing her anger, but Morgause’s voice evaded her with its lowness. 

The words of the fair haired beauty grew louder, each hissed vowel dripping with such evil intent the devil himself would’ve recoiled. Morgana watched with wide eyes and a dry mouth as the battle scene began to change. Morgause’s magic seemed to run through the valley, her vile spell finding the remnants of the thwarted enchantment and wrapping around it, manipulating it into something of her own. They watched as the men upon the field began to turn into Morgause’s puppets. 

“Sister?” Morgana placed a trembling hand on Morgause’s shoulder to gain her attention only to gasp in surprise. Morgause’s magic was black like the depths of a cave. For the first time ever Morgana feared her sister. 

Slowly all over the valley the knights wearing splendid red capes began to turn on one another. They tore each other apart with weapon and hand alike, behaving like animals rather than men. There was a portion who were so close to being rid of the enchantment that they remained in their right minds, staring at their fellow men with terror and the unwillingness to harm one of their own. Those were the ones that died the quickest. 

The magic users they’d collected for their nefarious plans shuffled in place and averted their gaze. They were all ready to kill and be killed for the cause, but there was something about what Morgause was doing that drove them to lightheadedness and nausea. 

Morgana’s frizzy raven hair whipped through the air as she snapped her head to face Morgause. “What have you done?” 

“ _We_ ” Morgause corrected, her voice thin and breathy, “Are going to do what’s necessary.” Veins were protruding from her neck and forehead with the exertion it took to keep hold of her spell. Morgana had never heard of such a thing, couldn’t comprehend her sisters ability to do magic on such a scale. “Call the dragon,” whispered Morgause, her eyes still gold and unseeing. 

Morgana was surprised at her eagerness to leave the room and the sight of her sister behind. She’d always believed in what they were doing but watching brothers being torn limb from limb was a scene she couldn’t stomach. A small voice in her mind wondered about the ethics of mass murder but she had no answers, at least none that suited her desires and so she walked to the balcony and tried to forget the blood bath. _This is for magic._ Her clammy brow and shaking hands stopped in that instant and she neared the balcony she stood upon many times as a ward with restored purpose. There was a new coldness to Morgana as she stepped onto the white structure. Camelot had taken everything from her, and now it was her turn to take everything from Camelot.

Evidently Aithusa grew bored of flying above the castle and frightening the party of guards and knights trying to fend him off. He’d landed in the courtyard and was surrounded by men. Their weapons bounced off his hide and clattered to the ground without leaving so much as a mark, it was an embarrassing display on their part. Morgana watched as one of the knights snuck up from behind while Aithusa was busy snapping at three guards in front of him. With surprise she realised it was Gwaine, his floppy hair giving him away. He jumped onto the dragon’s back shocking her for the second time in as many seconds. 

With a sinister smile Morgana called out to her dragon and Aithusa launched himself off the ground in an almost vertical jump. Gwaine managed to hold onto the scaley hide for a few moments before falling straight off and hitting the stones with a terrible grunt. The fall was high enough to kill the knight on impact and Morgana let herself hope only to watch Gwaine roll onto his side and curl into a little ball in pain. _Still alive then_ she mused to herself in disappointment. 

The dragon extended its wings with a loud _swoosh_ and flapped toward Morgana. Once at eye level he chirped in question. 

“It’s time,” she said, “Burn it all, my love.” 

Clouds of black smoke puffed from Aithusa’s nostrils and he took off like a bolt being released from her crossbow. She watched with pride as her dragon screeched a blood curdling cry. He flapped his wings hard and shot up into the sky, his white hide made him easy to track against the black clouds as he disappeared into the heavens. 

The Knights below waited in tense anticipation. Had the dragon gone? Where did the witch send it? 

Then, like an eagle with prey in its sights, Aithusa closed his wings and tipped his nose at the ground. He barreled toward earth and crashed through the clouds, a beautiful vision of death. When he was close enough to the huts that if he waited a second longer he’d crash into them, he expanded his wings and soared right above them. His mouth gaped open, razor sharp teeth illuminated by the blue flames that exploded from his throat. The huts caught on fire in a split second, and the knights watched as the lower town turned into the bowels of hell. 

Villagers ran out of their huts screaming, some on fire themselves. They were like a stampede of oxen running from a pack of wolves as they trampled their way through the dirt streets. The guards jumped into action, running toward their country men with the little help they had to offer. 

The wailing and raw screams of panic filled Morgana’s ears like a chaotic symphony and she smiled. This must’ve been what Uther felt like, standing on his pearly white balcony and sentencing the powerless to death.

“Priestess,” a voice called behind her and she spun around to see the magic users she’d collected standing in a group. 

“Your timing is impeccable.” She nodded her approval and they walked away from her without another word headed to complete the job they’d been hired for. 

Before, Morgana desired to sit upon the throne, now she knew better. She was never meant to rule these lands … she was meant to destroy them. She would obliterate Camelot and kill her King, finally ridding the world of this wretched Kingdom once and for all. 

  


\------------------------------

  


Arthur found himself panting raggedly as he fought off one of his own men. His knight reared a glittering sword above his head and brought it down with the force of an ox. With Excalibur gripped in two hands Arthur blocked the swing, the knight’s own weapon snapping in half. Undeterred by his lack of weapon the man attempted to stab Arthur with the shard of iron left in his grip. That tool was blocked too, the knight growled and shoved Arthur backwards while his sword was engaged. 

Arthur tried to push back only to lose his footing when he stepped into the stinking blood and guts of some poor soul. He slipped and hit the ground hard. His opponent did not lose a single moment before beginning to kick and stomp anywhere he could reach on Arthur. He was sure he heard a few ribs cracking under the persistence of his knight. Brandishing Excalibur he swung at the mans legs, slashing his calves to bits but the man was not slowed. 

“Get the hell off me!” Arthur growled and pushed Excalibur straight through the right thigh. That seemed to do enough damage to have the man stumbling back a few paces. Arthur attempted to scramble to his feet but slipped in the gore over and over so that he was on his knees when the knight came rushing back. 

With fists that Arthur himself taught how to punch, his knight struck him across the jaw hard, knocking the King onto his back. He reached down to Excalibur which was still snugly buried within the muscles of his thigh and yanked it out with an animalistic cry of pain. “DIE LITTLE KING!” he raged with a voice raw and completely mad. He raised the sword above his head much like he had his own before, but this time Arthur had absolutely nothing to block it with. 

- _Thwack_ -

A splatter of blood shot out from between his crazed eyes and splashed onto Arthur’s face. Arthur wiped the warm liquid from his own eyes only to see the very tip of a bolt, dark and protruding in the space between the knight’s brows. His face had gone blank and he remained standing for a few seconds before crumbling into a heap on the ground, Excalibur falling out of his grip. The other end of the bolt stood erect and exploding through a hole into the back of his head in a downward angle.

Snatching his weapon from the madman he used it to stand up and turn to his archers. His gaze found Lancelot, laying on the hill with crossbow in hand taking men out from incredible distances with nothing but a measly bolt. For a moment the man let his attention falter to give Arthur a nod that said _I’ve got your back_. 

  


\------------------------------

  


Slowly reality began to reveal itself to Merlin as he regained consciousness. There was someone shaking his shoulder and they repeated a word over and over but the sound was hard to make out. He fought to move away only to have another hand land upon his chest. The word came again, more desperate now. 

“Gareth,” Gwaine said and shook Merlin’s limp body. He was alive, but couldn’t seem to wake up, “Gareth!” 

“Let me try something,” said Leon as he knelt next to Merlin. 

Gwaine, at a loss for what to do sat back on his knees and gave Leon the floor. The red-headed knight pressed his fingers against Merlin’s pulse point and nodded hopefully. Then with much professionalism and accuracy he wound his hand back and slapped Merlin _hard_. 

Merlin sat up with a noisy gasp like a person being brought back from the dead. His eyes were wide and alarmed as he looked around, he was most certainly not where he last remembered being. His magic supplied him with a ball of light and his surroundings were showered with a soft yellow luminescence. 

The first thing that struck him was that he seemed to be in a cave, the second thing was that crammed into the cave were a lot of people, and they’d all just seen him perform magic. 

“Well … the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Gwaine professed next to him and Merlin turned to see his friend staring at the people with a grimace. 

After a few seconds of shocked silence one of the women began screaming. Quickly a man behind her, presumably her husband, put a hand over her mouth and shushed her as nicely as he could. 

“What the hell is going on?” Merlin hissed as he stood up. He felt perfectly fine, although that might change if the people decided to stampede over him to get away from the evil sorcerer and his ball of light. 

“A dragon is burning down the lower town. There was nowhere safe for them since Morgana overtook the castle hours ago so the townspeople were evacuated to the cave systems near Camelot. At least for now. You were passed out at the gates so we brought you along."

Merlin nodded and dusted himself off. “That’s good,” he said turning and walking toward the exit of the cave, “Because I’ve got things to do and it’ll most certainly get ugly.”

The man who was holding his terrified wife in his arms spoke up. “You’re just going to let the sorcerer escape? They’re destroying our Kingdom as we speak!” 

Before Leon or Gwaine could speak up in his defense Merlin acted on his own. Ripping off the necklace that had allowed him to remain disguised for so long he let everyone see just who he was. “I’m going to go out there and save your lives, if anyone objects to that take it up with King Arthur when he returns. My advice to you is to stay hidden in these caves,” and with that he turned back around and walked out. 

Gwaine and Leon looked at each other and then toward the still floating ball of light that remained in the cave. 

“When has Merlin ever hurt any of you?” Gwaine asked and his tone implied the people should be ashamed of themselves. 

“He’s a sorcerer,” the man who’d taken up the role of the people answered. 

“And?” This time it was Leon who spoke and the people fell quiet once more. Sir Leon had always been a very honorable Knight. He’d served under King Uther and followed the letter of the law without question. If there was someone they wouldn’t expect to come to the defense of magic it would be Sir Leon. “You may not want to admit it, but Merlin has never done anything but help everyone in these caves, and he was repaid with exile. Now he is saving us once more without our asking.” 

“But he won’t be doing it alone,” said Gwaine, his sentence directed at Leon. 

“No. Not alone,” Leon replied, a sort of pact being made with his fellow knight. “Sir Carter, I’m entrusting you with the safety of our people.” 

The guard, who stood crammed with everyone else, bowed his head and turned to the few other trained men left behind to coordinate the security of the caves. 

“Let’s get going then, Merlin might be a little bugger but he’s fast,” Gwaine said punching Leon in the arm and jogging his way out of the cave. 

The stars proved to be poor light sources as Leon and Gwaine tripped their way through the forest in a very Merlin like fashion. Crickets teased them by playing a lively tune and going quiet when either of the men neared. Finally they heard it, twigs and crunchy leaves crackling under the ratty old boots Merlin always wore. Through the dappled moonlight they caught a glimpse of his familiar black hair and pale skin. 

Merlin was almost to the gates by the time they caught up with him. He walked with his chin up high and his shoulders squared, not a trace of hesitation in his gait as he pushed forward toward the flaming lower town.

It looked otherworldly as the homes and stands burned and crumbled, engulfed by blue flames dancing against the night sky. The heat of the fire reached them as they neared the gates and licked at their skin with unnaturally intense strength. Gwaine shielded his eyes from the burn and turned to check on Merlin. The young man didn’t seem to be fazed by the fire in the slightest despite the sweat rivulets running down his exposed nape. Leon hissed as one of the huts exploded and sent flames and debris hurtling in their direction.

Merlin’s eyes flooded with gold and he spoke to the very flames as an irked parent does to a misbehaving child, “Acwence þa bælblyse!” As if a giant had snuffed it out, the fire that burned through several huts around them winked out of existence. Merlin walked further into what was once the path leading through the lower town and turned in place, his hands outstretched to the blackened and crackling homes, extinguishing them before their very eyes. 

Gwaine and Leon watched in awe as the destruction ceased with what appeared to be minimal effort from Merlin. However, their relief could not last long as thick whorls of smoke began to surround them, obscuring their vision. It found a home in their lungs and sent them into fits of hacking coughs. As they shook from the violent attempts their insides made at expelling the treacherous smoke they found themselves in yet another death trap. 

The dragon above gave a great cry at seeing his work destroyed. The men were on high alert, choking on smoke and unable to see the giant beast that wanted nothing more than their deaths. 

“Þrosm tohweorfe!” Merlin gasped and the smoke began to part. It did not disappear, but it dissipated away from them and that was good enough. Just in time, in fact, because the white dragon was falling from the heavens to breath its fiery wrath upon those that had dared mess with his destruction.

“Draca, eom, ala, sece findan metan! Ærne!” Merlin roared, startling the two men. They each looked at Merlin and then each other to confirm that Merlin had actually _roared_. 

The dragon above screeched, a high pitched sound that caused the hairs on the back of the Knights necks to stand to attention. It sounded furious and folded its wings against the sides of its body falling even faster toward them with renewed purpose. Merlin didn’t so much as blink. 

“Merlin, mate,” Gwaine said taking hold of one of the sleeves of Merlin’s tunic and pulling, “We’ve got to move, it’s coming right at us!” 

“I know,” Merlin replied, his voice soft now as he freed himself from Gwaine’s grip gently, “I told him to.” 

Leon turned to Merlin and made a sound somewhere between choking and spluttering, “You what?!”

In that moment Aithusa landed a few huts away from them and flared his nostrils, smoldering rubble crackling under his gleaming claws. He was huffing out small growls in a manner that solidified it was positively the most frightening thing Leon had ever looked in the face. Gwaine watched with an open mouth as the beast bared its teeth and snapped at them. 

“Enough!” Merlin barked. The dragons blue eyes found Merlin’s face and he looked seconds from tearing the three apart. Merlin walked forward then, right to the beast that surely would end them all. 

It trilled a shrill pitch that had Leon and Gwaine grimacing, white knuckle grip on the hilts of their swords. 

Again Merlin spoke, his voice going unnaturally deep and raspy, yet hissing at the same time. “Nán dyd ǽlc áciere miss. Eftsíðas eom ála cræt. Géate stǽr ábære gárrǽs. Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice. Car grise áþes.” 

_I command you to stop this reign of terror. You have caused enough pain and suffering to these people. You must obey me and follow my will for I have you under my power. You shall no longer bring death and destruction to this land._

Aithusa felt the command taking hold as Merlin spoke and by the time his master finished his snout was touching the ground in a bow of submission, tail tucked out of sight.

Merlin wanted to be angry with Aithusa, wished he could desire to punish the creature who no doubt caused the death of many, but he couldn’t find it within himself. Aithusa’s blood ran in his own, and he knew a dragon was nothing like a human, could not be blamed for its wild emotions, could not always comprehend human morals. Instead it felt like staring into the face of a prodigal son, returned from his erroneous ways and ready to make amends. 

His heart softened. He approached Aithusa and placed a palm against his forehead. Through the bond he could feel waves of guilt radiating off of his dragon and he knew that Aithusa finally understood his wrong doing. “How about you help me fix this, Aithusa?” he whispered so that only he and his dragon could hear. 

Gwaine and Leon watched from a distance as Merlin seemed to have a _conversation_ with a dragon that’d been rampaging through their city only hours ago. To their surprise Merlin turned to them with a joyous smile. He gave Aithusa a hard pat on the neck and sent the beast flying then took off running toward them. 

“Come on! Aithusa will be waiting for us!” he called as he ran past them. 

“It’s coming back?” Leon shouted as he took off after Merlin. 

“Don’t worry, Leon,” Merlin yelled, “Aithusa’s on our side this time.”

“Last one there is a rotten dragon egg,” declared Gwaine and sped up until he was neck and neck with Merlin, his flowy brown locks bouncing in the wind. Leon found himself admiring his friends’ ability to keep good spirits even in the worst of situations as he ran to catch up, after all, he refused to be the rotten egg. 

Far off in the center of the courtyard, arranged in a strategic semi circle stood Morgana’s minions. None of these men and women had good intentions, none really cared for the cause, in truth they were just lost souls with enough bitterness to enjoy causing others misery and much to Morgana’s good fortune, and to Camelot’s misfortune, she found them and offered them glory and wealth which none hesitated in taking. 

Surprisingly, apart from cold hearts they also had a good work ethic and they poured what little bits of their soul still existed into destroying the citadel. Incantations were shouted out, the world warping to the detrimental wishes of angry men and women. 

Two witches stood with linked elbows, their arms outstretched toward the castle. The chant they vocalized came gravely and short from lips, over and over without missing a beat. The air visibly warped around their hands, an ear splitting pitch somehow emanating from their fingertips. The stained glass windows Camelot boasted rattled and shrieked until one by one they exploded into thousands of little shards. 

At the command of a sorcerer who seemed very in touch with nature, roots the thickness of well trained thighs sprouted from the ground and razored through the courtyard stones. The once beautiful yard turned into a mess of uprooted stones and dirt. The roots zipped criss cross over the ground and toward the castle. They writhed up the walls like pythons trying to choke off its prey, chunks being torn off the once majestic edifice. 

One man knelt and pressed his hands to the floor, his words barely there whispers while gold glowed softly in his eyes. His manner was mild, but his words shook the Earth with frightening force. His comrades cursed as they attempted to keep their footing. He took no notice, only continued to whisper his song like spell to the Earth who shook itself apart. The ground split and fractured, land masses pulling away from one another with great moans and groans that echoed all around. 

The last sorceress was not quiet in her talent. She was loud and boastful with her spells, the words slipped from her mouth and landed upon the castles white towers. With a disorientating sizzle they melted as if the solid stone was nothing more than the creation of a child sculpted from freshly fallen snow. Plasma-like clumps of the tower whizzed to the ground, landing with a bodily slap and cooling into black rubble. 

Merlin, Leon, and Gwaine were nearing enough to see and the brief spark of joy from their earlier victory waned as they witnessed the senseless destruction. What the hell was Morgana doing? 

Aithusa didn’t bother with pointless human dwelling. He crashed through the clouds and descended upon the group of sorcerers, blue flames flaring from his open maw. They turned their attention to him, betrayal written across their features. Aithusa landed and screeched, teeth on display and wings spread wide and high to help him loom over their small bodies. Behind him he could sense his master running, his friends close behind, all on a mission to enter the castle. He had a mission of his own: Take care of all the sorcerers so his master could get to Morgana without delay. 

Leon’s gaze zeroed in on the steps to the castle. He sprinted as fast as he could, trying to clear the extensive distance the courtyard presented. There was a fire-breathing dragon to his left and at least five evil sorcerers in the vicinity, it was more magic than he could bare to take in one day. Ahead of him Merlin zipped through the rubble and leaped over the deep crevices that’d opened up in the ground, it was a surprising show of athleticism on Merlin’s part who tended to trip over his own feet. Somewhere to his right he could hear Gwaine running along but Leon couldn’t afford to turn and look at him. _Don’t look at the dragon. Don’t look at the sorcerers_ , he chanted to himself as his thighs pumped and his lungs begged for air, _Just focus. Make it to the castle, Leon. All you have to do is make it to the castle._ For a moment he almost believed it could be that easy. 

“Stop them!” Came the shrill cry in a woman’s voice and all hell broke loose. 

The vines that’d decorated the floor so beautifully moments ago came to life under the men’s quick feet. They could only be described as sentient in the manner which they chased the three and attempted to twirl around their ankles. 

Aithusa’s answering roar reverberated in everyone’s chest and in an instant he was leaping onto the man who commanded the vines. Rows of dagger like teeth sunk deep into flesh and sinew and the sorcerer screamed. Aithusa rocked his head side to side like a rabid dog. Surely it was alright to hurt the humans that wished to hurt his lord, right? 

A pitch so acute that it seemed to pierce his eardrums rattled through Aithusa’s head and he was forced to let go of the man’s arm with a yelp. On either side of him stood two witches, their arms outstretched and a matching chant in each of their fowl mouths. His hearing was far superior to that of a human’s, therefore the sound far more torturous as well. The world blurred with excruciating pain and he howled high and sorrowful. 

This was so effective that poor Aithusa did not even feel the vines that began to twirl around his legs and up his throat. They thickened and darkened into the sturdy yet flexible trunks of young saplings and pulled him against the solid Earth. 

Across the yard Gwaine found himself in a parallel situation. He lay prostrate on the ground, meaty vines encircling his neck. His arms and legs had long since been immobilized and he could not find the presence of mind or the oxygen to yell for help. Briefly he thought of all the people he’d disappointed in his life, pain in his chest as he had to add Merlin to that list. What great help he’d been, dying before they even entered the castle. 

Leon watched the chaos around him in horror. Aithusa seemed to be in big trouble, although he was doing an excellent job of keeping the sorcerers’ eyes off them which would have to be enough for now because the dragon was not the only one in trouble. A few feet ahead on the steps of the castle was Merlin, except instead of running inside he was curled up and clutching at his head like it would explode. He whirled around to yell at Gwaine for help, only to spot the man with a bloated and purpling face. 

“How the hell do I get myself into these situations!” Leon growled, frustration and worry pouring out of him as he ran to Gwaine. He fell hard to his knees atop the rocks and dirt and tugged at the magical plants before pulling out his sword and hacking at them with all his strength. They only tightened. “Hold on!” Leon cried frantically as he saw blood vessels popping in Gwaine’s eyes. 

In a second he was up and running to Merlin. “Get up!” he yelled and fell next to him against the steps, “Gwaine is dying!” Upon closer inspection Merlin was crying. Hard. “Merlin!” Leon grasped at the warlock’s shoulders and tried to look into his eyes but Merlin only pulled away and retched yellowish bile onto the white steps. 

“It hurts,” Merlin muttered as if a million miles away, his eyes glowing bright gold in a manner Leon couldn’t help but be unsettled by. 

Leon grabbed Merlin’s face in between two palms, and to his surprise scorching heat radiated from his skin and through Leon’s gloves. “Snap out of it!” He ordered like he would to a new recruit, “Gwaine is dying. Get it together, Merlin!” 

That at the very least seemed to wake Merlin from whatever haze he’d been trapped in. In the background Aithusa howled some more. Merlin’s golden eyes bounced between Gwaine and Aithusa even as tears continued to fall down his cheeks. His breathing was ragged as he reached forward and touched a vine near his foot. “Swilte!” he panted and promptly retched again. A steady stream of scarlet blood leaked from his left nostril.

In an instant the network of vines that entangled castles, friends, and dragons alike shriveled and died. “Go to Gwaine,” Merlin rasped out and pushed himself into a standing position. His limbs visibly trembled and his cheeks turned ruddy, clearly still in great pain from reasons Leon couldn’t hope to understand. The ginger left without another word to check on their friend and Merlin turned his attention upon his dragon. 

Aithusa was no longer wrapped in treacherous plant life but he keened high and whipped his head around. He snarled and puffed out weak flames but he stumbled over his own legs and crashed to the ground, one of his wings curled under his body at an awkward angle. All the sorcerers stood at a safe distance from the magical creature, their hands outstretched toward Aithusa, their voices a chorus of the same chant the witches started. Their power pooled together and their confidence soared as they controlled one of the most powerful magical creatures still alive. Their mistake was not realizing _the_ most powerful sorcerer to walk the Earth was watching them from across the courtyard, his features darkening by the second with a dragon’s rage in his small human form.

They did not hear his words, or feel the connection between dragon and dragon lord strengthen, but they did see as he sent their two witches flying with identical shrieks. The agonizing pressure in Merlin’s skull reduced itself to a meer crushing pounding. He sniffed and concentrated on Aithusa’s wonky body. _Stay strong,_ he told his dragon, _You’ve got an order to fulfill._ He was talking to himself as much as he was talking to Aithusa as he tried to fight through the pain. 

The dragon too felt the relief of two less sorcerers and he stood sturdier on Merlin’s command. Merlin could feel how disorienting this was for Aithusa and so he watched with pride as he lashed out and burned the last sorceress. She heaved herself backward, screaming at the pain of being burned by a dragon’s flame. The men were cowards and soon their bravado was running out. 

“Merlin!” Leon called as he tried to lug an unconscious Gwaine toward the castle. 

Now that the pain no longer made his vision a blur of colors he stumbled toward his friends. He hooked Gwaine’s other arm over his shoulders and hurried toward the steps with nothing but sheer determination. The last thing he saw before climbing up the steps was a fierce crack of Aithusa’s tail that sent the vine man sailing through the air like a child’s play thing. 

As they trudged through the corridors Merlin lit the torches silently. The usually lively halls of the castle sat abandoned and soundless, an apparition of what might become of his home if they failed. Arthur flashed in his mind then; sweaty and bloodied but still alive, sending him to save their Kingdom, and at once he decided failure just wasn’t an option.

Despite his sweaty brow and buzzing limbs Merlin could feel his strength returning along with Aithusa’s and he focused on the magical flow that lay underneath all visible things. It was easy to feel the violently pulsating magic in the throne room. There was no doubt in his mind that’s where Morgana would be. They crept along the ghostly halls toward their enemy, Leon placing his complete trust in Merlin to lead without so much as a question.

Before turning the corner to the throne room Merlin abruptly stopped. “Put him down,” he whispered to Leon, unwinding Gwaine’s arm from around his shoulders. 

Leon set Gwaine down and rested him sitting up against the wall. The brown haired man groaned and promptly fell to his side. “What do we do now, Merlin?” Leon hissed.

Merlin had never had anyone defer to him before but it was a privilege that came with great responsibility. If he made the wrong decision and Leon or Gwaine got hurt … or in Gwaine’s case _more_ hurt, it’d be Merlin’s fault. He had no idea how Arthur did it. “Stay here. Gwaine needs someone to watch out for him. I’ll go to Morgana.” 

“No,” Leon said, his ginger curls bouncing as he shook his head furiously, “You can’t go alone-” 

On the ground Gwaine blinked his eyes open and made a sound that could be a protest but Merlin ignored him. 

“We don’t have time for anything else,” Merlin hissed, the stress getting to him. “Stay with him. I’ll be fine, Leon.” 

A flush came over Leon’s face but he did not argue. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.” 

Merlin took a shaky breath and left his friends behind. _They’ll be safer there,_ he comforted himself. There was no doubt that they were great warriors but no one seemed to understand magic was a whole different kind of fight. Or perhaps they did understand, but just didn’t care. Either way, Merlin wasn’t going to risk them learning their lesson now. 

He turned the corner and tiptoed to the slightly ajar door of the throne room where he hunched low and peaked through the crack. Merlin’s heart skipped a beat as he spotted both Morgana and Morgause, but the shock quickly turned to confusion as he inspected them further. 

Neither of them moved. They sat upon their knees, touching a giant sphere. Morgana’s head was bowed, her matted hair hiding her face from him but her breath came so harshly he could hear it outside the room. Beside her Morgause was much the same but her head was angled upward, a mixture of desperation and glee on her face as she watched the scene inside the globe. Merlin let his eyes drift upward to where Morgause stared so intently. 

Inside was the battle he’d left behind, and yet everything was different. It was complete and utter chaos; depiction after depiction of men dying senseless violent deaths. Brothers in arms cut each other down without a second thought and the floor was littered with bodies so thickly the ones still alive could hardly get away. 

A pang of nausea rolled through Merlin’s insides and he squeezed his eyes shut. What was he looking at? What the hell was happening? His mind could not comprehend the images that flashed before him. 

“Sister,” one of the women gasped. Merlin’s eyes sprang open and he dared to peek again. Morgana had finally looked up, her face dripping with sweat and a vein on her forehead looking ready to pop. Morgause remained motionless for a few moments then finally turned to Morgana. Her eyes shone so intensely that golden light radiated from them onto Morgana’s wrecked face. Silently she reached out a hand, an offering of support. With teary eyes Morgana intertwined their fingers and sighed. 

Merlin felt the way their magic flowed together, the power pooling and affording both of them with strength. The magic began to pour out of them faster and into the globe leaving no trace of itself behind. The scenes became frenzied and the number of knights wearing red capes was being depleted by the minute. It all clicked then and Merlin knew exactly how to stop it. If he kept them away from their conduit they couldn’t hold the spell. 

Without another thought he burst into the room. The two women turned to him, a shout of exasperation breaking out of Morgana. 

“Emrys,” Morgause acknowledged Merlin but remained kneeling and channeling her magic. Her eyes were still gold but for the first time in a while they focused on something other than the fight.

Morgana sprang up, yanking her hand away from Morgause and the globe, depriving the spell of her magic. She was unwilling to have her back turned on Merlin, the sneaky little weasel. 

Merlin approved of this move so he turned to look at Morgause, he spoke calmly but his voice was laced with danger, “Now you. Step away.” 

There were a few tense moments and then finally Morgause slid her hands off the almost glass like surface and stood. “I hope you understand you failed him,” she said sounding triumphant despite being visibly tired from draining her magic. She sauntered toward the throne to rest her weary bones. 

“I wouldn’t recommend sitting there.” The words hung in the air, the implied threat loud.

“Why,” she asked, swiveling on her heel to face Merlin, “Because it belongs to your beloved Arthur?” There was laughter in her words and a growing smirk she couldn’t seem to suppress. “You do understand he does not feel the same, don’t you? Have you confessed yet?” Her smirk grew with genuine amusement, “he didn’t say it back did he?”

A cackle exploded from his right, it was an empty sound with no real joy and it emanated from Morgana. Her cheeks had regained their color and her eyes were glossy with tears. “That’s it, isn’t it?” She choked on some laughter, “You’re in love with him!” 

“Hadn’t you worked it out yet, dear sister?” Morgause asked, her voice innocent but her face mocking as she faced Merlin.

Merlin could feel his face growing hot, with humiliation or anger he couldn’t say, but he knew it would only add to their smugness. He ignored them, whether Arthur loved him or not wouldn’t change what he was there to do. “You’ll never succeed in destroying this Kingdom. I won’t let you.” 

Morgana took a break from laughing to look at him, “And who will rule the Kingdom?” Her eyes glittered with a secret, and Merlin yearned to rip it out of her. 

Footsteps snapped Merlin out of his bloody day dream and it happened to be none other than Gwaine and Leon. Gwaine walked forth to stand next to Merlin. Dark bruising wrapped around his neck, but his face betrayed nothing. He stood casually, a light curl at the corner of his lips. “Arthur will, and he’ll do a damn fine job of it.” If Gwaine’s voice was a little raspier than usual he certainly didn’t seem to realize. 

“Oh, Gwaine,” Morgana said with a sneer, “You always were so stupid.” She turned her gaze on Merlin and there was a glint of unadulterated satisfaction in her eyes, “Arthur’s as good as dead.” 

The words hit Merlin like a mace to the gut. When he left Arthur was just fine, but from the scenes they’d seen play out it was clear that things were not as he’d left them.

“What the hell are you talking about?” There was no denying the quiver in his voice, but the duo seemed to miss it was due to anger instead of intimidation. 

Morgause decided she’d give him the good news, “There’s about a fourth of the men you left behind still alive, the only thing they can do now is delay their deaths. But most of all, you’re here, and we all know without you by his side Arthur won’t last.” 

Anger flared hot in Merlin’s chest and the world seemed to white out in his rage. He didn’t utter a word, lift a finger, or even think, but Morgause still went flying. Her body whipped through the air and slammed hard against the back wall of the throne room several feet away. 

“If Arthur dies,” Merlin muttered as Morgause writhed on the ground, “I’ll make you pray for your own death.” There was a stony finality in every syllable and even though the words were delivered quietly they seemed to shake the very room. His voice was void of all the things that made him so _Merlin_. 

Gwaine and Leon had never witnessed Merlin’s wrath before, in fact no one had, at least no one that lived to tell the tale. Leon gripped the hilt of his sword harder and his eyes flicked between all the sorcerers in the room. 

“Like hell you will!” Morgana bit out and her hands were already up and shooting a ball of fire at the three men. 

Leon dove and pushed Merlin to the ground, effectively snapping the young man out of whatever state he’d been in. There was no time for words as a second ball exploded next to them leaving a giant black scorch mark. They rolled out from under the third one just in time. They sprang to their feet and Leon ran for cover but Merlin planted himself firmly in place and raised his own hands. This was Merlin’s domain and he was as brave as any Knight Leon had met. 

To his left Leon heard swords clashing and turned to find Gwaine was engaged in a fight with Morgause. Her left arm hung awkwardly and uselessly from her frame, her shoulder clearly dislocated after being thrown. Nevertheless, her right arm was just fine and she fought unhindered by her injury. Leon ran to help Gwaine, their only real chance at defeating Morgause was before she recuperated enough magic to ragdoll them as she had in the past. 

Morgause saw him coming and ducked right under the slashing of his sword. Now she was keeping them both at bay but she struggled to keep up with the speed of two people attacking. Her face contorted into a fierce scowl and her eyes lit up. An invisible force pushed them both back, but it was nothing compared to the way she’d usually send them barreling through the air. They skidded across the ground, akin to when Percival accidently pushed them too hard in training. She attempted to keep the throne between her and the two gentlemen but without speaking they each took one side and began to close in on her. 

“It’s destiny!” Morgause yelled loud enough for Merlin to hear over all the fighting. 

Leon and Gwaine kept their eyes trained on Morgause as they tried to breach her defenses. Behind them were the sounds of both Merlin and Morgana’s voices, there was hissing and grumbling and muttering of words they didn’t understand, crashing and shrieks and chaos. Then there was a sharp thud and a grunt that Gwaine was sure belonged to Merlin.

Gwaine’s heart lurched in his chest but he couldn’t turn to look at Merlin with Morgause trying to kill him and Leon, he had to trust in his friend’s abilities. In a wreckless move that only Gwaine had the balls to attempt he lunged for the sorceress only to have her avoid his attack and hit him with the hilt of her sword across the brow. 

“You know he’s destined to die on that field!” she continued, panting through the pain her shoulder radiated. “Better than anyone you understand-” she was cut off as Leon managed to slash her right thigh. Exasperation took over her frame and her eyes filled with that familiar glow. This time the wave of magic that hit them put Percival to shame and had them flailing in the air for a few seconds before they met the ground. Morgause turned her sights on Merlin,“Fate cannot be altered! The more you run from it, Emrys, the closer it gets!” 

From the floor at an awkward angle and disoriented from his skull smacking the ground Gwaine could finally see Merlin. There was a frightening amount of blood dripping from his hairline, sliding down a brow and over a cheekbone. He was pressed against the wall and his eyes seemed to go in an out of focus as he gasped for breath. With each of Morgause’s words his face fell more and more.

Morgana stood a few feet away, both of her arms extended, choking him without making any contact. Her chapped lips were stretched in a shadow of a smile and blood dripped from her nose onto her mouth. She snarled and squeezed her hands tighter, the blood running onto her teeth. 

Gwaine’s world spun but he still tried to stand. Beside him Leon laid unconscious and there was no time to try and wake him. Gwaine thought of his trip to the Perilous Lands for Merlin, about the little man they had met who called him strength. Merlin had saved so many with his magic already, Arthur was in the middle of a losing battle no doubt fighting with courage, and now … Gwaine needed to be strength. 

“Don’t listen to her, Merlin!” He called as he forced himself onto his hands and knees. “Fate is nothing but bullshit and Arthur’s still out there waiting for you!” Merlin’s eyes sharpened minutely as they met Gwaine’s. With effort Gwaine used his sword to stand, to show Merlin that they couldn’t give up, that he’d fight with Merlin until he had nothing left to give. To be Merlin’s strength. 

Morgause wasn’t pleased and apparently had had enough of Gwaine’s big mouth. She hurled a word he’d begun to recognize right at him. He dove out of the spot he stood in just as the force of her magic slammed against the wall with an audible thud. Gwaine rolled to his feet looking all types of smug and completely unscathed. “Bastard!” Morgause growled and ran at him, the wound Leon left on her thigh still bleeding. 

Gwaine didn’t stay put and wait for her to arrive, instead he ran right at Morgana like the mad man he’d always been. The woman was so focused on choking Merlin to death she never spotted him barreling toward her. He rammed into her, taking her down onto the floor so hard he knocked the wind from her lungs. Merlin slumped to the ground coughing and gasping violently. 

The warlock watched through watering eyes with black spots still appearing and disappearing in his vision as Morgause reeled her hands above her head to drive her sword straight through Gwaine’s back who’d landed atop of Morgana. In a move that confounded Merlin’s oxygen lacking brain, Gwaine rolled over, dragging Morgana with him so that her form lay draped over him, her back to his chest. The perfect shield.

“Sister!” Morgana screamed with terror as the sword almost penetrated her stomach. 

“You’ll have to go through her if you want to get to me,” Gwaine taunted, breathing hard and throwing looks at Merlin to check he was alright. 

“No mortal blade can kill her,” Morgause said and a frightening implication floated through the air.

“You wouldn’t,” Morgana whispered. 

“I would,” Morgause answered and pressed the tip of her sword to Morgana’s belly button but her eyes remained trained on Gwaine. “Tell me Sir Gwaine, are you too, immune to death by sword?” 

“You’re sick,” Gwaine growled, unwilling to be skewered onto the same blade as Morgana. 

A hard expression crawled over Morgause’s face and she leaned in closer, “Who isn’t?” she whispered and promptly put her weight on the blade. It sunk into the fatty meat of Morgana’s stomach, dragging a raw shriek out of her throat. 

Suddenly Morgause was blown backwards. She crashed to the ground and rolled a few paces. Her face was the picture of shock. Gwaine looked to Merlin to thank him only to see that Merlin looked equally as shocked. Morgana took advantage of his momentary distraction and ripped herself from his grip. She remained kneeling on the floor, her eyes still swirling with magic, gaze locked on Morgause. 

“It was a bluff, I wouldn’t have harmed you more than you could take,” Morgause answered the unanswered question, her eyes betraying nothing as she stared back at Morgana. 

“It was not!” Morgana yelled and her voice was shrill and disillusioned, “You were going to run me through!” 

“You wouldn’t have died!” Morgause yelled back and rolled onto her feet. 

Morgana couldn’t stand. She pressed two hands against the wound and tilted her chin up, somehow talking down to Morgause who stood much higher than her, “You’ve been using me.” The accusation seemed to be a slap to the face if Morgause’s reaction was anything to go by. 

Neither sorceress noticed two men scurrying in the background with a new plan in mind. 

“I have done nothing but be good to you. I found you when you were nothing more than a whining little wretch and grew your skills, showed you who you could be. I accepted you when everyone else was disgusted by you,” Morgause said.

“You’ve played me like a fool!” Morgana bellowed, everything clicking into place, “tricked me since that very first day!” 

“I never deceived you Morgana, the facts have always been clear and if you cannot see the bigger picture then you _are_ a fool.”

“I saved your life,” Morgana breathed into the space between them.

“And I yours,” Morgause stated dryly. She saved her from Uther, and still Morgana did not appreciate all that Morgause gave. Couldn’t she see this was all bigger than them? That they must suffer so no one else ever did? 

Their magic crackled in the space between them, causing a sort of static that encased all their senses. Morgana had never felt anything like it, the way her magic and her sisters magic seemed to snap at each other. Morgana’s upset grew and grew as she looked into the uncaring eyes of her sister. In them she saw Uther, and Arthur, and Mordred. Family that wasn’t really family. Morgana was sick and tired of “family.”

Morgause’s eyes, which rarely showed anything she didn’t want them to, began to grow wide. She felt the way Morgana’s magic swelled and swelled inside of her, battering against Morgana’s body to be let free. It was like floating on a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean and seeing a wave grow higher and higher, stronger and stronger, knowing it was coming to crush you under its might. 

“Did you even care for me?” Morgana whispered. “Was what we did to those men in battle for magic?” 

“Of course it was,” Morgause said, trying her best to look wounded. “And I’ve always cared for you. Greatly.” 

Morgana was smiling, but it was a very frightening look as she shook her head side to side with fake mirth. Her eyes were red and filled with tears, dried blood turned dark on her lips and teeth. She was shaking all over, her face deathly pale and tense. “You made me …” Morgana whispered hoarsely and looked at Morgause like she could see through her, “the things you made me do…” A tear shook loose from her eye and rolled down her cheek wetting the sticky red skin. 

Morgause couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her. “I did not make you do anything, Morgana. I know how much you treasure playing the victim, dear sister, but you knew just what you were doing all along, offered up your help eagerly. Learn to take some blame for your own actions.” The wave crashed right into the driftwood.

There was an ear splitting boom and Morgause felt herself flying. She braced for impact against the wall, but seconds passed and she hit nothing. She was spinning out of control and couldn’t make sense of what was up and what was down. “Morgana! SISTER!” she shrieked, for the first time letting her fear out in the open. 

Morgana did not speak only watched as her sister flew right through the hole she’d blown in the wall of the throne room. There was screaming for several seconds, growing fainter as Morgause fell lower, and then finally a resounding wet smack. Morgana did not move, only stared at the stars in the sky and the miles of forest visible from this high up in the castle. She did not derive any pleasure from the knowledge that her sister was splattered on the courtyard down below. 

Then it hit her. It was too quiet. The night was still, almost peaceful. There was no fire burning high in the lower town, no dragon tearing it all apart. There were no sounds of sorcerers wrecking the citadel and turning it to rubble. Her head snapped to the left and there they were, Merlin, Gwaine, and Leon. 

They were crowded around the globe and Merlin was touching it.

  


\------------------------------

  


Arthur remained standing, but he didn’t know for how much longer. Everywhere he turned the only face he met was that of a Knight of Essetir. He thought he might be able to spot a few red cloaks still fighting, but it was dark and they were muddy and it felt as if he’d been fighting alone for centuries. His arms ached and his thighs trembled but he could not take a moment to notice them or he would be dead. 

King Cenred’s men were flocking on individual knights like hungry vultures ready to strip them to the bone. Arthur climbed over fallen men and slid through blood and guts, running to the rescue of any of his knights he could spot. Arthur swung excalibur with the little reserves of energy he had and cried out with each clash of the sword, his limbs ready to quit on him at any moment. Briefly, he wondered if it was possible to just drop dead from exhaustion. 

As Arthur lured some men away from a visibly frightened knight who was little more than a boy he began to hear shouts. Cries of all kinds were not unusual when men were killing each other, but these took on a joyful tone that belonged nowhere near a battlefield. 

“Look!” he heard repeated over and over. 

“Morgause has kept her word!” another disembodied voice exclaimed. 

The knight who Arthur had been battling looked up exposing his neck, Arthur did not hesitate in hacking his head off. When the body in front of him tumbled to the ground he allowed himself to search for the miracle Cenred’s men were rejoicing over. 

Against the black clouds rested the creamy white form of a dragon. _Aithusa_ the name came to him as he recalled all of Merlin’s babbling about his dragon. Though he had not seen many dragons, Arthur could still see the slight deformation of its body. It screeched like a hawk and began to swoop lower and lower. Arthur’s heart beat out of his chest as he saw the beast approach. Had Merlin succeeded in taming the beast?

Aithusa flew low and spread his wings, skating impressively close to the ground. Cenred’s men began to slow, slaughtering thousands of enemies is tiring after all. It was precisely as they dropped their guard that the sky began to thunder. The noise shook the walls of the valley so violently Arthur thought they might crumble. For a split second everyone froze in an attempt to stay on their feet and they might have succeeded if not for the shower of lightning bolts that drowned them. 

Each bolt hit with a deafening boom and left nothing more than scorch marks where a person used to be. The bolts seemed to be picking off Cenred’s men by the batch and soon they were scurrying away from each other instead of staying in predatory packs. Arthur watched, frozen and unscathed, as the tides began to turn in their favor and he knew at once that somehow it was Merlin’s doing. 

Aithusa then proved himself to be the opposite of a good omen, chasing the Cenred’s men and dispatching of them with fire hotter than any flame had the right to be. The dragon was a beast of utter destruction as he moved through the valley. He flew by and breathed his blue flames, he let his feet touch the ground and pounced on anyone in his path. He fought alongside Arthur’s men like a knight of Camelot. 

Knowing that this was all Merlin’s doing caused a sort of fire to swell in Arthur’s own chest. It ran so hotly through his veins he thought he could even burn the dragon. He pushed the fatigue away, standing tall and determined as ever. He was covered head to toe in wet and dry blood, mud and shit caked on his boots. He looked every bit the legendary King he was prophesied to be. With renewed soul Arthur heaved Excalibur into the air, the sword sparkling with magic, and gave a cry for Camelot that echoed through the valley and reached those of his men who remained standing.

Up on his little hill Cenred watched the tides shifting, slowly realizing how stupid he’d been to trust Morgause again. Aithusa rushed at his men again and lifted one clear from the ground before dropping him onto some jagged rocks like a bird trying to open a scallop. The scallop exploded open. Now it was Cenred’s turn to watch with fear and revulsion as his men perished in droves.

“My King!” Cenred’s first in command cried as he clawed his way up to him. He’s bloodied, a look of terror flashing in his large dark eyes, “We must retreat!” Cenred looked back out onto the field, ready to protest. They still have far more men, and surely they could kill the dragon somehow, but he didn’t get a word out before another bolt clashed against the ground. The sound traveled through the valley in a second, stabbing at ear drums and leaving nothing but a high pitched ringing in its wake that replaced the dying cries of Cenred’s men. He watched, trembling and pale, as the ground split where the lightning hit and his men began to tumble in. His warriors cascaded over the edge and into the abyss almost as if the earth itself was hungrily swallowing them up. 

Hands took hold of his arm and snapped him out of it. His first knight yelled something that Cenred couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears but the man was frantic, shaking him and flinging spittle around as he screamed. His arms swung wide as he gestured to the field. 

Like the maw of a giant monster the ground was beginning to close. The valley shook as the ancient dirt crushed his men between non-existent teeth. His numbers thinning by the second. Then, as miraculously as it started it ended. The ground snapped closed, the lightning and thunder go away, it was as if none of it ever existed. The missing men the only proof it wasn’t a mad hallucination. Even without it Arthur’s men were slaying his now that they saw light at the end of the tunnel. 

No longer was there a disparaging difference in the amount of men each King had and quickly the war turned into primitive fighting with no rhyme or reason to the fight. It’s just men trying to stay alive.

“FOR CAMELOT!” Was the first thing Cenred heard again. 

“FOR CAMELOT!” Camelot’s Knights called out like a choir. 

Then again, a voice deep and steady among the chaos, “FOR CAMELOT!” 

“FOR CAMELOT!” The knights answered. 

The call persisted and grew stronger, strange and foreboding like a gregorian chant. In the midst of it all was that one voice, the Once and Future King. 

“RETREAT!” Called Cenred but no one could hear the order over Camelot’s mantra. “RETREAT!” 

Great gusts of wind lashed at his back and he was pushed clear off the hill, rolling along the dirt toward the valley where his men continued to endanger their lives at his earlier commands. He scratched at the soil to stop his traveling and yelled heartily as he realised it was the flapping of Aithusa’s wings that caused the wind. The dragon landed and pinned him to the ground with a single clawed paw. Cenred did not get to scream a second time before he was incinerated. 

Essetir’s first Knight watched in horror as Cenred’s skin charred. His eyes rolled back in his head and he promptly fell unconscious from the terror. 

Aithusa rose into the air, his claw curled around the once King’s abdomen. The dragon gave a great roar calling for everyone’s eyes. The body hung limply, on display for all to see. All over the valley Essetirs soldiers laid their eyes upon their disgraced King. “Our King has fallen!” They cried. Some fell upon their own swords rather than being taken as prisoners of war by Camelot. 

Arthur saw his chance. With strength he did not have he ran toward Aithusa and climbed up the hill to stand underneath the dragon. “Drop it!” He yelled to the creature. Miraculously Aithusa complied. Cenred’s corpse hit the dirt sending up little clouds of dust. 

The sword fighting had slowed almost to a complete stop, all at a loss for what to do. Their King was dead, what were they even fighting for in the first place? Did they want to fight the war of the traitor Morgause? Arthur could see doubt written across many dirt streaked faces. They didn’t want to die. Honor isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.

“Drop your weapons and you will be spared,” he declared, his voice ringing fearlessly through the battlefield. It wasn’t customary, and many looked up at him skeptically but he didn’t flag under their scrutiny. “Your King is dead. There has been enough senseless death for one day. Your war is over.” 

Aithusa landed behind him, milky blue eyes running over all the humans in the crowd. They looked at the little human before him like he was a God. Their eyes shone with tears and shouts of gratitude were gifted to him for his mercy. The dragon began to understand how much value humans placed on living. The little King slid down off the hill and trekked among the corpses like a common soldier, helping them fulfill their duties. Aithusa understood why his Lord Merlin loved the man with golden hair. 

Arthur trudged through the desecrated valley. There were piles of burning bodies courtesy of Aithusa. In a morbid way their light helped him move through the valley looking for any of his men who remained with their lives. Everyone had their own task, some of his men scoured the ground for any signs of life just as he did. There were those who walked around and provided a quick death for those who had been wounded beyond repair, even if they had been the enemy. Lastly, there were those who collected prisoners, Arthur wouldn’t use them for labor or torture them for secrets, but they would be useful leverage in negotiations with the Kingdom of Essetir when this was all over. 

The tents and medical supplies were lugged down the side of the valley first thing and flimsy medical tents were erected for the few who continued to breathe. Inside Gwen and Gaius worked at breakneck speed treating small scrapes all the way to missing limbs. Arthur dropped off the man slung around his shoulders and tried to slide out.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gwen asked, her voice soft but firm. “There’s nothing for you to do out there anymore. You need to be looked over.” 

“There’s more men,” he tried but she pulled him back anyway. 

“They’re being taken care of.” She pushed him into a chair, his own tent being turned into additional infirmary space. “You’ve done it, Arthur,” she whispered and tried to soothe him as she started to take off his gauntlets. 

“It wasn’t just me,” he said and finally it came to his addled brain why he couldn’t sit still. He needed to see Merlin, to see what happened to him.

Just then there were shouts outside of the tent and several alert knights turned toward the flaps of the tent. Some were ready to fight more, others looked to be on the verge of tears. Arthur wouldn’t let his men go through anymore trauma than they’d already suffered. He stood before Gwen could push him back into the chair and charged outside with Excalibur in hand, ready to destroy whatever was distressing those who fought so valiantly.

All the men outside stood looking up, quickly Arthur made out the shape of Aithusa as he circled above, the dark blue sky against his back. “Do not be afraid,” Arthur said, the remaining knights turned to look at him, and he stood tall hoping to lead by example, “Aithusa is a friend of Camelot.” 

The men quieted and among them Arthur spotted Lancelot, his eyes glittering with admiration that Arthur had never expected to see there. Aithusa trilled above them like a giant song bird and flew away, slow enough that Arthur understood what the dragon wanted.

Arthur climbed up the steep side of the valley. He made his way through the foliage of the forest, looking up through the canopy and spotting a white belly leading him somewhere. He arrived at the merchants road soon enough, the beast sat upon the path. Close up and face to face Aithusa was a lot larger than Arthur had believed. He approached the creature slowly, fighting a lifetime of conditioning to fear the things he didn’t understand. Aithusa did him the favor of staying very still except for his tail which dragged back and forth across the ground like a steady pendulum. 

“Did Merlin send you?” Arthur asked, unsure of what to expect. 

Aithusa did not speak but blinked owlishly and nodded his head, which was a movement Arthur had assigned to humans only, and despite having asked the question he’s shocked he received an answer. 

“Is he alright?” Arthur dared to question, his voice low and hoarse, afraid of the answer.

This time the dragon did not respond, instead he bowed his head until his snout grazed the dirt, his nape exposed and vulnerable. Arthur returned the show of faith with one of his own. He walked right up to Aithusa and slowly placed his hand against his scaly forehead. He’s taken aback by how gentle this creature can be. 

Aithusa slowly lifted his head and pushed at Arthur’s hand, not away but trying to show him something. It took a long time for Arthur to understand.

“You want me to get on?” 

A huff of hot air served as a confirmation and Aithusa lowered his head again so Arthur could hop on. 

Arthur climbed aboard with shaking limbs and squeezed his thighs around the dragon’s lithe torso. “You’re taking me to him,” Arthur said and this time the only response he received was the giant lurch Aithusa gave when he jumped into the air, his wings opening loudly like sails on a ship. A wave of immense vertigo crawled over Arthur as they climbed further into the sky and he wrapped his arms around the thinner part of Aithusa’s neck, his eyes clenched shut. 

Air rushed past his ears and everything moved so fast he struggled to take in oxygen.

  


\------------------------------

  


Morgana didn’t enjoy being taken advantage of and as soon as she caught sight of Merlin she was pushing herself off the ground, biting her tongue to stop herself from screaming. She staggered toward their hunched forms. Her eyes exploded with gold and she brought her fists down against the sphere. Great cracks shot out from under he fists and ran all over the surface like lightning across the sky. The orb shattered like delicate glass, shards dissipating before they hit the ground. 

The scene inside with men falling to their deaths evaporated and all that was left was a high priestess and magic itself staring each other down. 

“I wasn’t too late,” Merlin said, but the phrase came out like he was trying to convince himself. 

Morgana didn’t bother with words, they were past all that. 

She flung her hand out, ready to send Merlin through the wall as she had her sister. Leon lunged for her legs and knocked her off balance. The spell grazed Merlin and sent him spiraling backward, but he could take much more than that. Gwaine picked him up by the back of the tunic in a split second and they were turning back to check on Sir Leon. 

Leon stood to the side of Morgana who laid on the ground and supported herself with one elbow. Her other hand was pressed to her abdomen and red was steadily leaking out between her fingers. Leon’s eyes were wide as he held the already wet sword to Morgana’s neck, a visible tremor running through his arm. He’d always been fond of the Lady and he did not think he could kill her. 

“You _pest_ ,” Morgana growled and sat up with a wince. Leon screamed and his sword clattered to the ground, the hilt still glowing with heat. In a second the sword was levitating and ran straight through Leon’s shoulder. The Knight cried out and stumbled backward toward the door. 

“Go! Take him to safety,” Merlin rasped out to Gwaine. 

“Wai-” Gwaine protested but Merlin didn’t let him finish. 

This was no place for steel swords and bravery. Merlin’s magic wrapped around his friends and promptly lifted them right off the floor. They skated through the air and right through the doors which were then magically sealed. He could hear Gwaine beating against the door and calling his name with desperation. Merlin only continued to look at Morgana, never taking his eyes off of her for one second. 

Morgana looked back at Merlin just as intensely. She could see pity in his eyes and she hated it. “Kill me!” she seethed. 

Across from her Merlin fell to his knees, his adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed away the urge to cry. “I’m sorry it had to end like this,” he said. His voice came out strange even to his own ears. 

Morgana’s chest grew tight at the words and she struggled to breathe. She was sorry it had to end this way too, but that didn’t matter now and it was futile to speak the words. Nothing had gone as it should’ve and for the first time in years Morgana wondered at how she’d arrived here. But that hurt too much, to realize that perhaps she had some blame in this fucked up situation and so instead she shook her head violently and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. “Kill me,” she said again but there was no fire behind it, just a bone deep exhaustion. 

“Maybe-” Merlin tried, always looking for a way out, always causing more trouble for everyone because he couldn’t stand to hurt those he loved. 

“There is no other way, Merlin,” Morgana stopped him, “We’ve all done too much. Gone too far. There can be no forgiveness. There can be no hugging and making up. Don’t be a coward now. Fulfill your destiny, Emrys.” She stopped looking at him then and fell to her side, curling into a ball holding her wound tightly. A sweat broke out over her brow and she struggled against the spinning of the room. 

Merlin crawled closer, tired of being afraid, deciding to just do what he felt was right because if not now then when? 

Morgana did not fight him when he cradled her in his arms. A small snicker left her and it was detached and cold, “Everytime you embrace me Merlin, it’s with deadly intent.” 

Merlin didn’t say anything because how could he? She was right after all. He brushed her hair behind an ear and raked his eyes over her face. Her skin was a sickly gray, large purple bruises under her eyes. Her eyes were red rimmed and vacant, oxidized blood over her mouth and nose. There wasn’t a trace of the person he’d loved so fiercely before, he wondered what she saw when she looked up at him. 

“Swefn,” he whispered. His magic breezed over Morgana and her eyes began to droop with sleep, 

Her body began to go slack against his. “I hope you do save magic,” she drawled as her head lolled against his chest, “The Gods know I couldn’t.” 

“Swefn,” he repeated and once again the tide of his magic rushed her, and this time when it pulled back it returned with her consciousness. No longer did she speak, her breathing evening out. 

Merlin gulped and took a shuddering breath, he held her tighter. “Swvelt.” 

Morgana stilled. Her chest ceased to rise and fall. She was gone. 

  


\----------------------------

  


The dark clouds were washed away and behind their threatening bodies was the clearing sky, growing a lighter shade of blue in anticipation of the sun rising. Arthur was no longer hugging Aithusa so tightly his arms spasmed. The wind ruffled his hair and despite the sound of Aithusa’s wings the world had fallen silent. The last few hours had been the most challenging of his life and Arthur felt more than ready to be done with them. 

From his place in the heavens he saw the sun begin to peak out from behind the horizon, shooting red streaks through the expansive sky. The bright green foliage of the forest below was unlike anything Arthur had seen before. The world was being revealed to him from an entirely new perspective. He felt as he’d never felt before, he felt … free. 

A sharp laugh escaped him and it was ripped from him so suddenly it shocked him. However, once he’d started he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t sure what he was laughing at, and as tears pooled in his eyes and whipped off his cheeks he wasn’t even sure he was laughing anymore. It was all just too much. 

It was so close back there, closer than it had ever been before. He lost so many men. So many of his men. Then Merlin saved them, saved _him_ just as as he always did. Now he was on a dragon. He let the tears keep coming, too exhausted to look for control. Under him he felt more than heard Aithusa rumble, it seemed almost an attempt at comforting Arthur. 

Arthur just wanted to find Merlin. If he could hold Merlin everything would be better. 

Just as the sun cast more of its glorious light across the land below him they neared the Kingdom. For some moments his heart clenched with relief at seeing the gleaming turrets of his castle. The relief didn’t last long. 

His Kingdom was destroyed. Just like in the valley, there was destruction on such a large scale it was hard to take in. The lower town was nothing but fallen homes and ashes. The citadel was torn apart, Arthur had no idea what or who could do such a thing. Even the castle was crumbling in some parts, a large chunk of wall blown out on the second level. What struck Arthur was not just the destruction, but the absolute barrensess of it all, there was not a single sound, not even the birds. 

Aithusa’s landing was less than graceful and Arthur barely managed to hold onto his neck. He slipped off and avoided the loose stones. As he neared the castle steps a body stood out against the rubble. It was Morgause, or what was left of her. With a cold dread Arthur entered the castle, hand on the hilt of his sword. 

The halls were dim but strangely unaffected by the chaos that had ensued. “Merlin!” Arthur hissed, not really expecting an answer but unable to stop himself from calling out. 

He passed room after room where the beginnings of panic were written out like the set of a play. Clothes were strewn across the floor. Baskets of fruit and laundry and cutlery were abandoned on the ground. Chairs were pushed over. Documents sprinkled around Lord’s chambers. 

He systematically went through the castle, the grip on his sword never relaxing for a moment. Finally he arrived at the hall leading to the throne room and there he found the first signs of life since he’d arrived. 

Gwaine and Leon rested against the wall, Leon looking pale and sweaty. The doors to the throne room were closed and Gwaine stared at them longingly. At the sound of Arthur’s boot scuffing the ground the two men whipped their heads to him, a desperate look in their eyes. 

“Arthur,” Gwaine croaked, his voice raspy and worn like he’d been screaming. 

“Gwaine, Leon … where’s Merlin?” He asked trying his hardest to remain calm. 

“He’s in there. With Morgana,” Leon grunted out and pushed himself off the wall, ready to help if Arthur asked for it. The blood running down from his shoulder didn’t escape the King’s notice. 

“Merlin’s using his magic to keep the door shut and he won’t listen to anything we say. It’s been so quiet in there since he threw us out ...” Gwaine tapered off. 

Arthur didn’t like the sound of that one bit. He walked straight to the door and tried to push it open, and just as Gwaine had said the door did not budge. From close up a gold sheen could be seen ingrained in the wood. “Merlin,” Arthur whispered, unable to push the concern out of his voice. No one answered, no one even made a sound on the other side. More worry pooled in his gut and he pressed himself closer to the door, wishing with all his might to hear even a peep. When he pressed his cheek against the door there was a tingling against his skin.

Merlin’s magic inspected Arthur, coated him and wrapped around his limbs. It was a strange feeling, but it was warm and gentle with him, and after a few moments the door simply popped open. Arthur turned back to look at his men and they nodded at him, hurrying him inside. Arthur pushed the door open the smallest bit, looking inside to check if Merlin was in danger. 

Inside was nothing but Merlin’s body hunched against a wall, Morgana in his arms. The hole in the opposite wall served to let the light of the sunrise in, illuminating the nightmares that occurred in the sun’s absence. Merlin sat so perfectly still Arthur could’ve taken him for a marble statue, his eyes were wide and unblinking as they focused on Morgana’s face. Arthur himself couldn’t bare to look at her complexion for more than a few seconds before he looked away. He pushed away the feeling of his heart contracting at the sight of these two people who he loved so dearly in such a gruesome scene. 

Arthur didn’t think before he moved to sit on the ground with Merlin. He reached out to Merlin, his eyes so far away it felt as if he were parting through thousands of miles to get to him. When he crossed the leagues of distance his trembling hand fell upon Merlin’s eerily still one. The touch startled Merlin out of the trance he sat in, and he blinked up at Arthur like he’d just saved him from unending torture.

Merlin turned his hand so that it rested palm to palm with Arthur’s. His face was transforming every second, moving between relief and remorse and too many things for Arthur to decipher. He was asking Arthur something with his eyes, but Arthur didn’t think he had the answer so instead he pressed his own palm closer to Merlin’s and intertwined their fingers.

The movement seemed to be the key to Merlin’s floodgates and at once they were flung wide open. Merlin was crying now and he trembled so hard Arthur feared he’d shake himself apart. He squeezed Arthur’s hand like it was the only thing he had left in the world and buried his face against Arthur’s shoulder. And it might’ve been strange because not a single word was uttered but Arthur understood just how Merlin felt. He raised his other hand and pressed it into the downy soft hair at the base of Merlin’s neck and just held him. 

There were tears running down Arthur’s face too and he made no attempt to hide them, not from Merlin, not from Gwaine and Leon who maintained a respectful distance. He let his head fall back against the wall and watched the sun climb higher and higher in the sky. The sunlight glittered in the tracks of his tears and he closed his eyes against all the ugliness the light revealed. He didn’t look out over his wrecked kingdom anymore, he couldn’t, instead he turned his head towards Merlin and pressed kisses to the crown of his hair, more for himself than Merlin. 

And they just sat there, Arthur holding Merlin, Merlin holding Morgana. The trio of once friends reunited at last. 

They’d won the war. It was all over. Finally it was all over, but at what cost?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm aware it took me like 3 months to update but truly I have no excuse! Suddenly I stopped having fun writing this fic and I felt really nervous about people hating it. That gave me crippling fear and made it hard to write. Then I remembered that fics are for fun and its OK if not everyone likes it. SO I finished the chapter and decided to post. 
> 
> There's only one chapter left! On a TOTALLY unrelated note ... how do y'all feel about nsfw content ... bc maybe ... in the next chapter- WELL I won't give anything away but, hypothetically, if something decidedly not PG happened would y'all be down? Or shall we keep this baby squeaky clean and family friendly?


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